


Mind of a Fanatic

by Lady10



Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:57:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 48,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5893732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady10/pseuds/Lady10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A criminal from Calligh's past makes parole ad comes looking for her. This takes place in Season 5 between Backstabbers and Internal Affairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mind of a Fanatic

 

 

Louisiana State Pen six months ago………….

 

Father Peter Dupree fastened his clerical collar around his neck for the first time in twelve long years as he  
prepared for his release from prison. He’d spent most of his sentence in the Louisiana State Penitentiary and  
was now being released for good behavior. In that time, he had been a model prisoner; volunteering for the  
worst and most menial tasks. Even the guards came to have a regard for him and his willing attitude, a few  
spoke on his behalf during his most recent parole hearing, winning him his release.

 

Father Dupree viewed his incarceration as penance for being a faulty instrument of God; he hadn’t saved the  
souls of those girls, he hadn’t brought them to the Light, the contentment of God’s love… He hadn’t taught  
them a woman’s proper place in the world; made them see the error of their mannish careers… He needed to  
atone for his sin of false pride; he saw his release as God’s forgiveness, he was being given a second chance  
to redeem himself in God’s eyes. Dupree knew exactly where to start. It would mean breaking the conditions  
of his parole, but God came above the law… God made the law. Yes, he knew exactly where to start. She had  
been so pretty a dozen years ago, so feminine, yet she chose an unsuitable, masculine career, denying her  
calling as a woman to be a wife and mother…He had no doubt that she was defying God’s will; he had kept  
up on her. It was easy, really. She had a unique name and she had made quite a reputation for herself. So  
much so that she had been recruited for the top crime lab in the south and had been in Miami for ten years.  
He read of each of her mannish accomplishments since then; each one an insult to God. More than anything,  
he desired to bring her to God. He had promised her at his trial. They would be each other’s redemption..

 

.  
Miami Dade crime lab present day……

 

“Eric, did you get anything from the mass spec yet?” Calleigh asked as she breezed into Trace. There was a  
tell-tale bounce in her step and a bright sparkle in her eyes that spoke of her normally bubbly attitude taken  
to another level. She was having an unusually good day.

 

Eric looked up from the computer screen and smiled at her. He loved to see her like this; happy. “Nothing  
yet; so what put the wind in your sails today?”

 

“The sky is clear, birds are singing, I got a great price on gas and Hank Kerner lost yet another appeal for  
parole.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “How could I not be having a good day?”

 

Eric laughed as the mass spec beeped and spat out a readout. He retrieved it. “It looks like your luck is  
holding. This says-” Calleigh held up her hand as her cell rang.

 

She looked at the caller ID. “Hang on a minute, Eric…..Duquesne…..Hey, Tony! How are you? You’ve gone  
back? Great. They really need you…..Ok, I know that tone. What’s wrong?” Her sunny disposition vanished in  
the space of a single heartbeat. The color drained from her face and she began to tremble ever-so-slightly.  
She turned her back to Eric to hide her sudden distress. “What do you mean he’s out? Parole? Oh dear  
God…..No, Tony, I’m fine; or I will be once the shock wears off. When did he make parole?”

 

She leaned back against the lab table as her legs went to rubber at the answer. “Six months ago? They lost  
contact with him when? Oh, ok. Thanks for the heads up, Tony. Give my love to Pam and the kids…..Yeah……  
Bye.”

 

She cut the connection, crossed her arms over her chest and tried to beat the panic down.She was reeling,  
she knew it. Fear had taken up a hard balled residence in her stomach. She remembered the trial and the  
threat. She remembered looking into his eyes and knowing that he had meant every word. He would follow  
through with it… Now he was out and missing for the last three months; it was more than enough time to  
find her and make preparations. She was so lost in her own thoughts that when a gentle hand landed on her  
shoulder she nearly leapt out of her skin with a startled yelp.

 

“What’s wrong?” Eric asked, deeply concerned at Calleigh’s very abrupt mood change. He knew she could  
sometimes be a bit mercurial, but this was something different; almost manic.

 

She attempted a weak smile. “I’m fine, Eric. I just got a little bad news. I’m fine.”

 

“Bullshit. Don’t lie to me, Calleigh.” Eric gave her a hard look. He could see the fear in her eyes and it made  
him want to know even more. Fear was not something he associated with Calleigh “You’re not fine; that  
phone call upset you in a major way. Talk to me.”

 

“I’m not upset.” She said, the words sounding hollow to her own ears. “I’m fine.”

 

“Calleigh, you said that you trust me with your life.” Eric held her by the shoulders and was surprised to feel  
her trembling beneath his hands. It had to be bad, very bad. “Don’t give me the old ‘I’m fine’ because we  
both know you’re not. You’re shaking; you’re obviously upset. Talk to me.”

 

“I do trust you, Eric.” Calleigh hung her head in defeat. Eric was right and she knew it. She was touched  
deeply by his fierce concern. It gave her a sense of comfort, which she needed badly at the moment. “It’s  
not that. I just…I’m not sure how to start.”

 

She took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Uhm, it was about a dozen years ago, I guess; I was a  
relatively new CSI back in New Orleans. It was the first investigation that I got to lead and it all seemed  
pretty straight forward at first. It was a hit and run, but the vic’s condition was weird; she was beaten and  
tortured before the accident. She was dressed in this bizarre animal skin tunic and I can’t even begin to  
enumerate the wounds. I won’t go into the details of the investigation, but it lead us back to the scene of the  
first crime; the abduction and subsequent torture of the woman. The room, torture chamber really, was like a  
scene straight out of Hell; with every torture device known to man, and a few that even Torquemada couldn’t  
dream up. And there was a lot of red; old and new. She wasn’t the first, not by a long shot; more like the  
fifth. We discovered that the other four were in the state mental hospital.”

 

Calleigh stopped, struggling for composure. She knew she was scaring Eric by how tight his grip was on her  
arms. “I was the lead in the case; it was our lab and my testimony that put him away. During the trial he  
kept referring to his torture chamber as “the Chapel”, his victims “Penitents” and the torture as “Catechism”.  
He claimed he was trying to save them, make them see the error of their ways and bring them to God. As he  
was being led away, he looked directly into my eyes and promised that when he got out he would do his best  
to save me and bring me to God; that was twelve years ago. He made parole six months ago, and they lost  
track of him three months later. Eric, that’s plenty of time to follow through on his threat.”

 

“Do you think he’ll actually follow through on it?” Eric asked, wanting to erase her fear, but not knowing how.

 

“It’s not a question of if, but when. He’s going to come after me the first chance he gets.” Calleigh said with  
utter conviction in her voice. “Peter Dupree; Father Peter Dupree; no one, not any criminal I’ve put away  
since scares me like he does.”

 

“Then we need to tell H.” Eric replied quietly.

 

 

Horatio sat in silent contemplation behind his desk. Calleigh had just finished telling him the story and was  
now pacing his office like a caged animal, clearly more agitated than she had been when she came in. He  
had never seen her as upset or unsettled before; normally she was a tower of strength, the epitome of grace  
under pressure. There had to be more to the story for it to have gotten under her skin like it obviously had.  
What aren’t you telling me …?

 

He rose and stepped into her path; which effectively stopped her pacing, unless she was willing to walk over  
him. He placed his hands on her shoulders, surprised at how hard she was shaking. She was terrified…Honest  
to God terrifed. He’d seen that look before, on Jennifer Wilson’s face ... Sometimes the devil was real … He  
wanted to pull her into an embrace to still her, comfort her, but knew it wasn’t appropriate. “Ok, let’s get all  
the facts first. We’ll contact NOPD and get the information. We’ll talk to his parole officer and see if Dupree  
has left New Orleans. There may be nothing to worry about. Let’s not put the cart before the horse, here.”

 

“Alright; you’re right. I’m so sorry this has me so rattled, Horatio.” Calleigh nodded, closing her eyes; he was  
speaking reason, she knew. Horatio Caine; the rock of Miami … The whole world could be going to hell  
around him and he’d merely blink a few times and meet it head on …. “It’s just, well, the only thing that  
made me sleep securely on those first nights after his trial was knowing that he’d be in prison for a long  
time. Now he’s out, apparently missing, and I’m having a very hard time believing that he’s forgotten all  
about his threat. Horatio, you have to understand; he’s Stewart Otis, Walter Resden, Antonio Riaz and Clavo  
Cruz all rolled into one. He doesn’t kill his victims; he tortures them until their minds snap, then he lets them  
go. Now I know that I am perfectly capable of protecting myself. But…..two of his victims were bigger and  
physically stronger than I am. One was a semi pro boxer and the other a firefighter. Our dead vic was a cop.  
If he could do that to them…..” She broke off, looking down. She couldn’t ever remember feeling so afraid  
since the trial. She didn’t fear for her life, she feared for her sanity. If he got a hold of her, how much could  
she take before she broke? He would let her live, she knew that; but she’d be changed forever, like those  
poor women she saw in the mental institution, unable to say anything beyond Bible quotes and strings of  
Latin that she didn’t understand. She needed Horatio to understand that. “I can handle the physical-“

 

“I know. I do understand, Calleigh. Until we know where this guy is, you are not going to be alone outside  
the lab. If he’s here to make good on his threat, he’s going to try to take you while you’re alone, so you  
won’t be.”

 

Her first reaction was to balk at the idea of having a babysitter, but what he said made sense. “Thank you,  
Horatio. I appreciate this. I, uhm, probably should get back to work now. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”  
Reluctantly, he let go of her shoulders and gave her a ghost of a smile. “No worries, ma’am.”

 

“Lt. Caine,” Claudia tapped on Horatio’s doorframe, crossing his office and laying a stack of papers on his  
desk. “This just came over the fax for you and the crime scene photos are printing on the scanner; I’ll bring  
those to you when they’re done.”

 

Horatio took the papers and rose. “Thank you, Claudia. I’ll get them myself. He followed her to the scanner  
and collected the photos, looking through them. He returned to his office and began reading the case file,  
matching pictures of the vics to the details in the file.

 

No wonder Calleigh’s so rattled. This had to be a waking nightmare to investigate, he thought, sipping his  
coffee. His cell rang. “Horatio…..yes, thank you for calling back…..He’s been gone for three months and you  
still haven’t located him yet? Sorry; but that doesn’t cut it. I have a CSI that is now in immanent danger  
because you couldn’t keep track nor apprehend one single criminal. You couldn’t find your ass with both  
hands and a map. If anything happens to my CSI, it’ll be on your heads. Have a nice day.”

 

Idiots!

 

Horatio cut the connection; he was absolutely furious. It seemed that Calleigh had every right to be terrified.  
She was now directly in harm’s way and he had no idea how to break it to her without sending her into a  
panic. Even when they didn’t know all the facts, she had been cranked into an acute state of fear. That made  
him extremely concerned about her reaction when he did give her the facts.

 

Horatio thumbed through the file and photos again, taking in specific details this time. He shuddered to think  
of any of it happening to Calleigh. They had to make certain the guy never touched her… It was time to rally  
the troops ….


	2. Chapter 2

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 2

 

Ryan and Natalia stood next to each other in Layout. Eric had already arrived and found himself a stool  
at the corner of the large under lit table near the doorway. He moved it closer to his blonde colleague,  
sensing that she could benefit by his nearness. Ryan leaned close to Natalia, feeling the overwhelming  
urge to whisper.

 

“Any idea what Horatio wants to see us about?” he asked.

 

“I have no idea, but I can’t shake the feeling that it has something to do with Calleigh. She doesn’t look  
right.” She shook her head, eyeing a very unsettled Calleigh; speaking in a whisper as well. Raising her  
voice she asked. “Hey Calleigh, you ok?”

 

“I’m fine,” Calleigh said automatically, with as much inflection as a robot; flicking her gaze briefly to  
Natalia. She was anything but fine at the moment. A hard knot had taken up residence in the pit of her  
stomach, making it hurt. She had no illusions at all as to why Horatio had called the meeting.

 

“Alright,” Horatio said as he entered Layout, a case file in his hand. He shut the door behind him and  
settled himself next to Calleigh, just close enough that he could steady her if she needed it. He noticed  
Eric doing the same. Good, lean on us, Sweetheart, he thought, glancing at her to try and judge her  
steadiness; she didn’t look too steady to him, but the team needed to know what was happening.  
He plunged ahead, laying out the crime scene photos that Calleigh had shot a dozen years ago. ”I’ll  
make this as brief and clear as I can; this is Officer Pamela Brooks of the New Orleans police  
department. She had been captured and tortured by a Father Peter Dupree. She managed to escape and  
was fleeing him when she was struck and killed by an unknown vehicle. Father Dupree was  
subsequently apprehended and sent to prison. Calleigh was the lead CSI on the investigation and her  
damning testimony put him away. At his sentencing, he leveled a clear threat at Calleigh. This would be  
of no concern to us if he hadn’t gotten out of prison six months ago. NOPD lost touch with him three  
months later. I spoke with his parole officer and he hasn’t heard from him in two months. He’s in the  
wind, folks and from his profile and information that Calleigh provided for me, there is no reason not to  
believe that he will make good on his threat. The man is an obsessed psychopath. To call this a bad  
situation would be a gross understatement.”

 

Ryan’s eyes drank in the horrors of the photos and he couldn’t help feeling a little sick. The guy who  
did this threatened his mentor and friend. “Calleigh, what was the threat?” he asked his voice gentle.  
“Picture’s worth a thousand words.” Calleigh swallowed hard but couldn’t keep her voice from  
wavering. “You’re looking at it.”

 

“I’m not asking; you’re not ok.” Ryan’s head snapped up taking in her appearance and what he saw  
concerned him deeply. All her walls were down: she was terrified.

 

“Not even remotely,” her brutal honesty in how she felt betrayed just how bad it really was. She took a  
deep breath and continued. “I’m sorry; it’s just that I’ve seen, firsthand, what he can do. Horatio’s right;  
he’s an obsessed psychopath with a religious bent. Dupree is a Catholic priest, part of that ultraconservative wing with the Latin name that I just can’t recall right now.”

 

“Opus Dei,” Eric supplied, looking closely at the photos. “They can be pretty extreme in their methods,  
but I’ve never heard of them being into torture, and that’s what this is; torture.”

 

“They’re not. When I ran the investigation, I spoke with the chapter house’s director, Father Kozinski.  
He was very accommodating and supplied me with any and all information that I could need on Opus  
Dei concerning Dupree. He even gave me a copy of the document that removed Dupree from Opus  
Dei. It was signed by the Vatican.” She extracted the document and laid it out for everyone to see. “The  
Father was very disturbed that Dupree would go and commit such crimes. It upset him a great deal and  
the man was no actor.” A wave of fear ran through her. Oh, God, how am I going to deal with this? It  
was bad enough the first time… “This all happened after the date he was removed him from the order.  
He went rogue, took matters into his own hands and became dangerous.”

 

Horatio could see Calleigh fighting for control. He took up the narrative, pointing to each set of photos  
in turn. “His first vic was Bonnie Snyder, 27, a firefighter. She now resides at the Bradley Institute for  
the Mentally Ill. Next was Jessica Cleveland, CEO of Cleveland Financial; now also living at Bradley.  
Haley Peterson, 30, electrical engineer for Maron Electrical Contractors, also at Bradley. His fourth vic  
was Patricia Robertson, 22, semi-pro boxer, also residing at Bradley. All were held for undetermined  
amounts of time; all with their minds completely broken and when found, all had similar signs of  
physical torture.”

 

“Y’all need to understand something,” Calleigh said suddenly, her accent unusually thick, breaking into  
the horrified silence that fell over the room. “At his trial he kept referring to his vics as “penitents” that  
needed to be reminded of a woman’s place in the world. He kept going on about how no one  
understood the will of God anymore, women especially. They were second to men and should be  
subservient. He kept quoting the Genesis passage about God creating woman from Adam’s rib. The  
light in his eyes when he said it…..”

 

She took a deep breath. She felt both Horatio and Eric move closer, closing ranks; even Ryan inched  
closer. “He said that he had to teach them their catechism; that I needed to learn mine and that when he  
got out, he would teach me.” She pointed to the photos with a hand that shook visibly. “That is his  
method of teaching catechism; what he’s threatened to do to me.” Tears pricked at her eyes so she  
turned her back on the group and leaned against the lab table, head hanging. Breathe; remember to  
breathe …

 

Out of the deafening silence came a voice and a soft hand on her arm. “Jesus, Cal,’ Eric breathed.  
She was glad of his nearness and gentle touch. It gave her some measure of strength. “Yeah; even after  
all these years it’s still enough to make me shudder. But that’s just the physical fallout. It’s his means of  
systematically breaking his vic’s mind that’s truly frightening; if you’re subjected to enough pain for a  
long enough period of time, you’ll do anything to make it stop. It’s not a question if you’ll break; but  
when. From the survivors I interviewed; he’s very thorough. All they could say to me were disjointed  
Bible passages, things in Latin I didn’t understand; church things.”

 

She stopped to try to get herself under better control. It was getting to her more and more as the  
explanations went on. Feelings of fight or flight were beginning to war inside her and she fought it with  
all she had and she was beginning to lose. “Horatio…”

 

“The point is, folks, is that Calleigh is now in an unenviable position of being a potential victim of this  
man and that, ladies and gentlemen, is something we cannot allow to happen.” Horatio stated with  
absolute finality.

 

He glanced at Calleigh, saw how hard she was fighting to remain in control; it broke his heart. He  
ached to gather her in his arms and calm her. Just hang in there a little longer Sweetheart …

 

He returned his attention to his assembled team. “Until Dupree can be located and taken into custody,  
she is not to be alone outside this lab; not getting a meal, not on a crime scene, not off duty - never. We  
can theorize that if he intends on making good on his threat and from the evidence that we already  
have, he does, then he’ll most likely try to take her when she is alone and unprotected. If he is here,  
he’s been watching her; knows her routine, where she shops, where she eats, her route for her morning  
runs. The guy is smart and he is dangerous, but most of all he is a psychopath focused on Calleigh.  
Experience has shown that guys like this do not stop until they’re caught or they’re dead. Dupree’s  
already broken his parole; by targeting Calleigh he’s automatically made this a capital offense in the  
offing. He has nothing to lose.”

 

Calleigh launched herself away from the table; the war was lost inside herself, flight took control. She  
pushed past Ryan and Eric and made straight for the elevators. “I need some air.”  
Horatio made a move, but Eric was faster off the mark. “I’m on it. Fill me in on the plan when I get  
back.”

 

He jogged to keep up with Calleigh’s furious pace. He caught up with her at the elevators. He gently  
grabbed her arm, disturbed that she jumped at his contact. “Hey, not by yourself; you heard H.”  
Calleigh remained silent as the elevator stopped, they got in and she punched the button for the top  
floor. She continued her silence as the moved down the corridor, up a short flight of stairs and out an  
access door; she waited until the door snicked shut on the roof before speaking. Calleigh turned to him;  
her voice wavering as she fought again for some semblance of control. “Eric, if you breathe a word of  
what I’m going to say to anyone, even Horatio; I’ll never trust you again. Promise me you won’t.”

 

“I don’t know if I can promise that, not if it puts you in any more danger than you already are in,” Eric  
said, moving close to her. He could see she was shaking again and that frightened him; she was holding  
on by a thread and it was already frayed to the breaking point. Eric had never seen her this terrified in  
all the years he’d known her not even when she’d been run off the road and into the canal a few weeks  
back. She’d been shaken then, but had brushed it off, more upset by the evidence being compromised  
that the reality that she could have died.

 

“Please.”

 

“Alright, not a word,” he replied.

 

She ducked her head, unwilling to meet his eyes. Her voice was so soft when she spoke that he had to  
strain to hear her. “For the first time since I became a cop, I’m scared; bone deep, paralyzingly terrified.  
Those other women were all bigger, heavier and physically stronger than me. You know, I can handle  
physical pain; the possibility of being hurt like that doesn’t bother me. It’s what he does to their minds;  
the fact that he uses that pain and anguish to break them down, leaving them a shell of their former  
selves. Eric, if I-“

 

Eric’s heart broke and he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. I have to do something, say something  
or she’s going to shatter right here, right now. Dupree won’t even have to touch her. “Don’t go there,  
Calleigh; it’s not going to happen. We won’t give him the chance. You’re too strong, too intelligent for  
him to break you. You have something else that the other women didn’t have; the best body guards in  
Miami. You have every right to feel the way you do. If it was me, I’d be scared out of my mind, too.”

 

“No you wouldn’t. You’d be angry and go looking for him.” She rested her head on his chest and let  
out a small, humorless chuckle. She began to feel better, grateful for Eric’s incredibly loyal friendship.  
Between that and the certain knowledge that Horatio had already outlined a plan of action made the  
fear recede into the background until it became white noise. She was humbled by Horatio’s fierce, yet  
tender protectiveness over her.

 

Eric’s cell shrilled. He released a now much calmed Calleigh. “Delko….yeah, everything is under  
control. We’re on the roof…..She’s better; just needed to talk it out a little…..Alright…..” He looked  
hard at Calleigh, who seemed to be returning to her normal self. “Yeah, I think she can do it. We’re on  
our way.”

 

He cut the connection. “That was H. We have a shooting on the Causeway, lots of casings for you. I’m  
taking the first watch on you; think you’re up for it?”

 

She stepped back from his comforting sphere and looked up at him, determination replacing the fear in  
her eyes. “Damn straight. I have one of the best body guards in Miami.”

 

Although it looked like chaos, processing the crime scene was easier than anyone had thought. It was  
an apparent display of road rage; one firearm, one vic, one shooter already in custody with the gun still  
on him. All the team really needed to do was collect the evidence, bag and tag. It made it easy for the  
team to collectively keep an eye on Calleigh, who had all the outward appearances of returning to her  
usual self; the revelations of the morning a distant nasty memory. Eric, knowing her better than that,  
kept as close as he could to her, since she was his responsibility. He snapped pictures of the shooter’s  
tire tracks while Calleigh collected the several dozen casings.

 

Calleigh dropped another collected casing into her evidence bag; fully concentrating and completely  
content in the focus and routine of her work. When a soft hand landed on her shoulder, she startled  
badly; still on edge, despite outward appearances. She stood and in one swift, fluid motion, spun to face  
her attacker, right knee rising to emasculate him. The blow connected with jarring force.  
Ryan grunted in pain, doubling over.

 

“Oh my God, Ryan; I’m so sorry!” Calleigh cried, reaching out to support him. “The hand on my  
shoulder; I was startled. I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

 

She led him over to the back of one of the Hummers and leaned him against it. She opened a door and  
helped him to sit, hovering over him, apologizing yet another time.

 

Eric had taken in the entire exchange and turned away, stifling a chuckle. While he could sympathize  
with Ryan’s obvious discomfort, he knew the guy had it coming, startling Calleigh like that. Act  
without thinking, take the consequences … He glanced back at them and saw that Horatio had joined  
them. Ryan was slowly and gingerly getting to his feet, but that wasn’t what drew Eric’s focus; Horatio  
was speaking softly to Calleigh, his hand on her arm. He asked her a question. She answered him,  
shaking her head. She was clearly upset with herself; her reaction. With another exchange she broke  
away from him, returning to processing the crime scene. Eric stood as Horatio approached.

 

“H?” he asked.

 

“I assume you saw.” Horatio said concern coloring his words; eyes invisible behind his sunglasses. “I  
thought you said she could handle it.”

 

“She can.” Eric replied, feeling a little defensive. “Did she say anything?”

 

“No.” Horatio shook his head. “She shut down on me; I’m not surprised. We’re at a crime scene, in the  
public eye. She’s embarrassed at her actions as it is; some idiot’s going to talk and I know there’ll be a  
visit from IAB. See if you can talk her down while I check on Alexx. If you can’t, get her back to the  
lab immediately; she’s in no shape to be out here. Make it look like you’re done. I don’t want any  
rumors.”

 

“H, she just overreacted.” Eric said. Horatio sounded detached and remote, but Eric could tell by his  
former brother-in-law’s body language that he was anything but. Horatio was just as concerned,  
perhaps even more so than he was, over Calleigh’s well-being. He could see that Horatio would like  
nothing better than to take her back to the lab himself, but was prevented from doing so by the fact that  
he was their Lt. and needed to stay on the scene. “I’ll talk to her; if I can’t get her settled, I’ll take her  
back to the lab. You want time to talk to her, right?”

 

“Right,” Horatio moved away to let Eric do what he needed to do.

 

Eric squatted down next to Calleigh. “Hey.”

 

She glanced up at him. “Hey.”

 

“Look, Wolfe had it coming; he should have known better after this morning. He could have gotten  
your attention some other way.”

 

“I shouldn’t have kneed him,” Calleigh said dejectedly. “I was way out of line; maybe I shouldn’t be  
here. You should have left me back at the lab.”

 

“Calleigh, you were fine before Wolfe startled you; there’s no reason that you can’t focus again,” Eric  
coached. “Close your eyes and breathe deeply. I’ve got your back.”

 

With only a slight hesitation she complied with Eric’s coaching. Slowly, gradually, she calmed and was  
able to focus again. “I’m better; thank you.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I hate being this on edge.  
Maybe I should take a page from your book and get angry and hunt him down.” She flashed him a grin.  
Eric returned it. “That’s the intimidating Calleigh I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 3

 

Father Dupree sat in his white Bronco and watched his quarry still doing mans’ work He shook his head sadly,  
knowing that it was going to take some doing to save her. He sipped from his water bottle and took another  
bite of his tuna salad sandwich as he saw her get behind the wheel of the Hummer and pull away. He put his  
sandwich down, started the engine and followed.

 

 

 

“Hey, Dan,” Calleigh said with forced cheerfulness as she entered A.V. “I need a huge favor. Can you track  
somebody down for me?”

 

“Isn’t that somebody else’s department?” Cooper asked, still scanning radio frequencies. “I’m tracking down  
something for Aaron.”

 

“I know, but Rodriguez is backed up and I really need this is a hurry,” Calleigh explained. “It’s critical.”  
Cooper looked up at her and wasn’t exactly happy with what he saw behind her clear green eyes. Something  
was bothering her badly. “Does it have anything to do with the big powwow in Layout this morning?”

 

Calleigh raised an eyebrow. “You saw that?” Please, please, please don’t tell me you saw me freak out.

 

“Yeah, can’t help it; glass walls.” Cooper said. He knew what he saw and he also knew that it had upset her  
somehow by the way she bolted, but he wasn’t foolish enough to engage her temper by mentioning it. “Ok,  
give it to me. If it’s that important, I can make some space.”

 

Calleigh handed him the file and took a seat next to him. “Thanks.”

 

Cooper took the file from her and flipped it open, scanning the contents. “Whoa, hey, this isn’t even Miami.  
This is from New Orleans. Are you sure this is the right file?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure. Cut the commentary and just track, please.” Calleigh said far sharper than she intended. “I’m  
sorry; I didn’t mean to snap.”

 

“Are you ok?” Cooper asked even more concerned about her than he was when he saw her bolt from Layout  
that morning.

 

“I’m fine,” she said, her own voice hollow in her ears. “I just need this information as fast as you can get it  
to me, ok?”

 

Cooper was unconvinced. He’d heard the old brush off line before. Yeah, if I had a dollar every time I heard  
that around here, I’d be retired and living like a king in Monaco. “Ok, let’s see…..Alright, I see the relevance.  
Boy, you must have been pretty green.”

 

“I was.”

 

“You want me to track a Catholic priest?” Cooper asked.

 

“He may be a priest; but he’s also a monster and he’s in the wind right now.” Calleigh said, getting angry.  
Angry was good. It was better than frightened. “He skipped parole and I will be damned if he goes off and  
continues his criminal behavior.”

 

 

 

“Horatio, we have a problem,” Calleigh said, entering his office.

 

“Calleigh, what is it?” Horatio held up his hand, stopping Frank in mid-sentence; seeing the panic and fear  
back in her eyes. He glanced at the other man, asking, “Frank, can we continue this later?”

 

“No, it’s alright. He can stay.” Calleigh took a few more steps into the office until she stood next to Frank in  
front of Horatio’s desk. She slid the file across to Horatio. “I had Cooper do a hunt for Dupree going back to  
his last check in with his parole officer; he really dropped off the grid, Horatio. The last thing Cooper found  
was the purchase of a ’92 Ford Bronco, white. I called the dealership and spoke with the guy that sold the  
car. He said that he sold it to a Father Peters and that the good Father told him that he’d be going to work a  
mission in Miami. Cooper’s tracing the alias right now.” She leaned heavily on the desk, suddenly feeling very  
weak. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision that was threatening to black out. Someone was talking  
to her, moving closer, but she couldn’t hear over the roaring in her ears.

 

“Frank, catch her, she’s going down!” Horatio ordered, alarmed. He rose from his chair as Frank caught her  
before she slipped too far.

 

Frank scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a child. He carried her to the couch and  
gently laid her on it. “What the hell? Calleigh doesn’t act like this. What’s got her so flipped out?” he asked,  
genuine concern for her in his voice. He went to the water cooler in the corner and drew a cupful.

 

Horatio knelt on the floor at her side and took her hand. “A criminal that she put away a dozen years ago  
suddenly has been paroled and is coming after her. This Dupree makes Torquemada look like Mister Rogers;  
not only does he physically torture his victims, but he methodically breaks their minds until they’ll do and say  
anything he wants them to. Calleigh has seen firsthand what this guy can do and is capable of; he’s  
threatened to do it to her, payback for her putting him in a six by six. That file and the information she just  
told us means that he’s going to make good on his threat and he’s already here.”

 

“Jesus H. Christ,” Frank breathed. “Stupid question; is she going to be ok?”

 

“I don’t know. She’s been like this since she got the news,” Horatio said, stroking her cheek. “Calleigh,  
sweetheart, can you hear me?”

 

Calleigh’s eyes fluttered open and she tried to sit up. Horatio held her back with a gentle hand on her  
shoulder. “Not so fast, sweetheart. Take it easy.”

 

She winced. “My head hurts. What happened?”

 

“You fainted,” Frank said flatly. He was still trying to process the information that he had just learned. He  
held out the cup of water to her.

 

Oh great, can I act any weaker? She sat up, accepting the cup.“I have never fainted in my entire life.”

 

“Well this is the first day of the rest of your life because you fainted.” Frank countered as her cheeks colored  
in embarrassment.

 

“Calleigh, you passed out.” Horatio sat next to Calleigh trying to give her a sense of comfort from his  
nearness. “You told us what Cooper was able to find and then you went down.”

 

“Lightest ton of bricks I’ve caught.” Frank supplied, trying to lighten the situation. Calleigh was scaring him  
badly; he needed her to smile, smack him upside the head, anything.

 

“Frank,” Horatio said warningly, shooting him a look. Calleigh was in an incredibly fragile state and he didn’t  
need Frank making the situation worse. “How do you feel?”

 

“Thoroughly embarrassed,” she replied, hanging her head. She downed the rest of the water. “This just isn’t  
me; you know that. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

 

“No worries. You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re keenly aware of what Dupree can do and he’s right here  
in Miami and it looks like he’s going to try to make good on his threat. I’d say that you’re rightfully scared  
out of your mind and right now nothing anyone says or does is going to help until the guy is in custody.”  
Horatio regarded her closely. Maybe we should get you away from here. You have relatives in the Midwest,  
don’t you?”

 

“Horatio, I did not run when Kerner escaped a few years ago and came after me and I will not run now,” she  
said with a hint of her usual bravado. “You know I prefer to stand and fight.”

 

“Calleigh, you’re barely holding yourself together now. Need I remind you that Mr. Wolfe is still limping and  
not five minutes ago, Frank had to keep you from hitting the floor? I’m worried about you.” Horatio said,  
tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, needing to get a better view of her face. “You’re wound up so  
tight that I don’t know what to do to help you.”

 

“Aw hell, Calleigh, I’m worried about you and I know you can kick my ass on the shooting range any time  
you want.” Frank squatted down in front of her and took her hands. He may tease her unmercifully on  
ocassion, but he’d always had a tender spot for her in his heart. Call it his Southern Gentleman rearing his  
head. “I’ve seen you tackle and cuff criminals. I know you’re tough, but this is scaring me, ok?”

 

She sat, eyes shut, regaining some composure. She appreciated their concern and worry, but wished it  
wasn’t necessary and that she could just get a grip on herself and calm down. She needed them to stand  
down a bit and give her a chance. She raised her head and opened her eyes. Ok, here comes the bluff of the  
century. Do not look Horatio in the eyes or he’ll see right through it. “I appreciate your concern. I really do,  
but I’ll be alright. I am not leaving. I will not be chased from my home and my adopted city by someone I  
put behind bars once and can do so again. Just let him slip up once and I will make completely certain that  
he never knows a moment of freedom again.” She stood and straightened her clothing. “I’m going to check  
with Cooper and see if he’s found anything else.”

 

Horatio stood, blocking her way. “You’re staying with me tonight, you know that. We’ll swing by your place to  
pick up a few of your things after work. I want to talk tonight. I want you to tell me what’s going on in that  
head of yours.”

 

Calleigh nodded, not meeting his eyes. “Alright.” Just the way she wanted to spend the evening …

 

 

Dupree sat watching the front entrance to the Miami Dade Crime Lab. As he waited, he prayed: “You suffer in  
this present life, which is only a dream and a short one at that. Rejoice because your Father God loves you so  
much and if you put obstacles in his way after this bad dream he will give you a good awakening.” He prayed  
that exact prayer for patience every day of his incarceration and he was always rewarded with a greater  
measure of patience in the face of frustration. He thumbed his copy of “The Way”. It brought him comfort  
and it was his credo for the way he lived his life.

 

Those of his order would and had differed in his methods of “saving” others. They conversed, gently  
pressured and persuaded. For them, a true Christian dealt in compassion and kindness. He abducted, used  
pain and brainwashed; no method was too extreme in order to bring the wayward sheep back to the flock.  
Jesus as the Good Shepherd carried the wayward lamb back to the flock on his shoulders after breaking its  
feet. If you had to break their feet so they couldn’t stray again, then so be it. It was precisely for those  
methods that he had been driven from the Order with a signed document from Pope John Paul II himself.  
Even the Holy Father didn’t understand.

 

Dupree sat up, coming to complete attention. There she was, exiting the building with a red-haired man.  
They were talking and he said something to make her laugh. Her laughter was loud enough that Dupree  
could hear it. Not a demure laugh as befitting a lady, but a loud, brash laugh. He shook his head, deeply  
disappointed in her. She was wearing a snug fitting black top that had such a low cut that he could see more  
than was decent. Her black pants fit her every curve and left nothing to the imagination. She walked on high  
heels. It was nothing a true Christian woman would be wearing for modesty’s sake. He realized that he’d  
have to bring her to Chapel far sooner than he had planned. He waited for the Hummer to pass before pulling  
out and following them.

 

Horatio pulled up in front of Calleigh’s modest, yet elegant home. She reached for the door handle. “I’ll just  
be a minute.”

 

“Not by yourself Calleigh,” Horatio reminded her; he held onto her arm, making her stop. “I thought I made  
that clear. I know that this is your own home and you’re used to doing things for yourself, but I’m not willing  
to take chances with you. I don’t want a single hair on your head harmed by this guy. I’m going with you.”  
He reached over and stroked her cheek. “Got it?”

 

She gave him a small smile, “Got it.” She was touched beyond words by his deep concern and fierce  
protectiveness over her. In his presence she felt safe, protected, as if nothing in the world could harm her. I  
could get far too used to that feeling. I just wish it wasn’t because my life is in danger.

 

She gave him another, far wicked grin. “Well, time’s wasting and you promised to cook dinner for me.”  
He returned it and they got out of the Hummer and walked up the path to her door. It happened like  
lightening; soft thudding footsteps across her well manicured lawn and then Horatio pitched forward,  
unconscious, as something hit him from behind.

 

Calleigh turned as she heard him hit the ground, already drawing her firearm, only to be tackled, something  
soft covering her nose and mouth. Her world went black as she lost consciousness.

 

Father Dupree removed her firearm from her hand, discarded her purse and lifted her in his arms. She was  
as limp as a rag doll. He hefted her up to get a better hold on her, dropping the chloroformed cloth on the  
ground as he did so. He carried her to the rear of the Bronco and loaded her inside. He glanced around at the  
windows of the neighboring homes to see if anyone witnessed his actions. Satisfied that no one had, he  
closed the rear gate, got in and drove off.


	4. Chapter 4

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 4

 

Horatio regained consciousness a short while later. Did anyone get the number of that two by four? His head  
throbbed and at first he couldn’t remember where he was. He opened his eyes and everything came crashing  
back on him. . Damn! He scrambled to his feet and frantically looked around. “Calleigh!” he shouted. There  
was no response. He slowed his frantic searching and took the scene in. Panicking wasn’t going to help. Her  
purse and firearm were on the ground and her keys were in the door. There was a discarded handkerchief on  
the lawn near her gun.

 

Horatio pulled out his cell and dialed Dispatch. “This is Lieutenant Horatio Caine. We have an abducted CSI;  
location, 8125 Saratoga, Bal Harbor. I need everything you can throw at me to process this scene.” He cut  
the connection and retrieved his kit from the rear of the Hummer.

 

Horatio began to process the scene starting with Calleigh’s home. He turned the key and entered, searching  
for anything that could tell him if Dupree had been inside. Finding nothing, he headed out the front door,  
carefully closing and locking it behind him. His stomach twisted as he considered the evidence she’d  
unwillingly left behind; purse, firearm, handkerchief. He was supposed to be keeping her safe. He assured  
her that she would be fine, that Dupree wouldn’t touch her and he’d gone and lost her on his watch. . Nice  
work genius …

 

Flashes of the crime scene photos flashed across his inner eye and he groaned. Guilt crashed over him again  
and again like waves on the ocean. How long did Dupree have her already? What had he already forced her  
to endure? He was shaken out of his guilt-riddled reverie by the sound of another Hummer screeching to a  
halt next to his. Eric and Natalia exited the vehicle and approached him, kits in hand.

 

Eric made it to Horatio first and he was understandably angry. His voice was a low growl, not enough to be  
insubordinate he wasn’t that stupid, but enough to let Horatio know that Eric held him responsible.. “H, what  
the hell happened; I thought she was with you?”

 

“She was. Dupree must have been following us. We got out of the Hummer, walked up the path, I heard  
footsteps and then nothing. He hit me from behind; when I came to, he and Calleigh were long gone.” He  
rubbed the back of his aching neck, sick with guilt and the after effects of a possible concussion. “Time is not  
our friend right now. We need to find her before that lunatic-“

 

“Yeah, I know,” Eric said tightly, cutting him off. He felt terrible; he’d been so angry at Horatio but now he  
could see just how upset the older man was. Eric knew that if it had happened on his watch he’d be feeling  
the same way. “We’ll find her; but not if we keep standing here playing should-have-could-have-would-have.”

 

“Hey guys,” Natalia called from the front walk. She was busy cataloging the scattered items. “I’ve got her  
PDA; but her cell is missing.”

 

“She never puts her cell in her purse,” Eric answered automatically. He and Horatio  
shared a look. “It’s always in her back pocket.”

 

“County issued cell phones have GPS tracking; Calleigh’s phone wasn’t turned off, we can track her . God  
bless technology! ” Horatio said, snapping out his own cell. “Cooper, I need you to track Calleigh’s cell……

 

Dupree’s got her; we need to know her location right now…..I’m waiting.” Horatio tapped his foot impatiently,  
watching Eric and Natalia process the scene.

 

“What? Good work, Dan.” He closed the connection and raised his voice. “They’re headed southwest of route  
59 toward the ‘Glades. From Cooper’s estimated speed, they have about 45 minutes on us.”

 

 

 

Dupree pulled off Route 59 and onto an unused access road. He wanted his penitent in proper attire before  
entering the Chapel; preferring to change her himself since he knew there would be a tussle and that he may  
have to physically knock her out to get her to co-operate. That would never do; he wanted her unblemished  
when she came to the Chapel. He rounded the back of the Bronco and let down the gate. He gazed at his newest mission with pity; somuch sin; so much atonement to be done. Taking the penitent’s hair shirt he made just for her from the shopping bag, he leaned in and began to undress her.

 

 

 

Eric pulled the Hummer up to the co-ordinates that Cooper had supplied, but could see nothing. “Hey Coop,  
there’s nothing here. Are you sure you have the right cell? There’s no car, no Dupree and no Calleigh.” He  
and Horatio got out and scanned the area.

 

“Yeah,” Cooper’s voice said over the speaker. “I have yours and Horatio’s in the same location. She’s got to  
be there man.”

 

“Eric, I have something,” Horatio’s voice floated to him in the growing darkness. I don’t like that tone. This  
can’t be good.

 

Eric rounded the back of the Hummer and approached a crouching Horatio. “What is it?”

 

Horatio had begun pulling garments out of a shopping bag; underwear, a black blouse, black slacks and a  
pair of heels. His stomach twisted just considering what could have happened in that very spot. “Calleigh’s  
clothes; her cell is still in the back pocket. We may have a secondary crime scene here.”

 

Eric felt as if he were going to be sick. “I’ll scan for biologicals,” he said, his voice tight. Please don’t say that  
he…. He scanned the area with his crime light, each sweep a relief. “There are no biologicals here, H.”

 

“Her clothes were folded neatly and placed in the bag. That means that she was still unconscious when he  
removed her clothing.” Horatio replied, running his flashlight over the tracks. “I see his tire tracks turning  
and back out the way he came. After that, who knows where he took her.”

 

“We’ve got to find her. If this guy already did something to her-“

 

Horatio placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, although he was feeling the same exact way. “We’ll  
find her. We have to.”

 

 

 

Everything hurt; no, it was just her head. Had she hit her head? She couldn’t remember anything at first.  
Eyes kept shut, she struggled to move beyond the fog in her mind and reconstruct just what happened to  
her.

 

She and Horatio were in the department Hummer that Horatio had signed out for the night. People tended to  
think twice before messing with a Humvee. They stopped at her place to pick up some of her things. Horatio  
had insisted that he accompany her inside….With a horrible jolt she realized that Dupree must have surprised  
them, done something to Horatio and taken her. She remembered a grunt behind her and she had spun,  
drawing her firearm; then there was nothing. Panic started to beat at her mind. She clamped down on it,  
breathing deep, trying to relax. If she expected to survive this coming ordeal then she needed to think like a  
survivor instead of someone already hanging their head in defeat. The worst had already happened and she  
needed to deal with it rationally. Calleigh prayed that Horatio was just knocked out and not taken out. She  
focused on what she knew about Dupree; crazy yes, but a killer, no. Regardless of how insane he was, he  
was still a Catholic priest, which meant that all life was sacred to him. He didn’t kill his vics, So it was a  
reasonable assumption that Horatio was alive, mad as hell and already looking for her. He’d find her, it was  
only a question of when – and how long she could hold out.

 

Figuring that she had better sit up and assess the situation, she opened her eyes and was immediately  
horrified. Bad decision; very bad decision …

 

It was a Spanish Inquisitor’s wet dream. Memory flashes of the first crime scene in Louisiana flashed before  
her inner eye. On the far wall, hung various whips, flagellum and scourges, ranging from small and mostly  
harmless to a huge one made of leather and tipped with nasty looking barbs meant for only one thing;  
tearing living flesh from bone. Just in front of that wall sat some sort of low table with a crank on one end.  
Don’t even begin to speculate on what that little gem is for …

 

Her eyes roamed the room from her place on the floor, taking note of things she knew and puzzling over  
those she didn’t. She was sure Dupree would introduce her to each and every one, personally. And didn’t  
that just give her a case of the warm fuzzies …

 

One object that caught and held her attention was a large, round post in the center of the room. It had two  
iron chains bolted to each side. It reminded her of the slave whipping posts she saw when she took the  
historical Plantation tours as a school child year after year.

 

She shuddered and struggled to sit up, the garment she had been laced into rasping roughly against her  
skin. A small gasp escaped her lips at the mild discomfort, realizing that the discomfort will only grow the  
longer she was forced to wear it. She looked down at herself. She was wearing the tanned skin of some  
animal. The hair had not been removed and that was what rasped against her skin. Beneath it, from the feel  
of it, she was naked. . There was a series of images she didn’t need.

 

She sniffed and realized she was wearing goat skin. “Aw, gross,” she whispered.

 

Her hands were fastened behind her back and her shoulders ached in protest. Great, Dupree was a Boy  
Scout with an advanced knot tying merit badge on top of everything else… She got to her feet and attempted  
to explore her surroundings and find a means of escape, but found she was tethered by a rope that went up  
and over a beam in the ceiling and then down to another crank on the other side of the room. Resigned, she  
sat back down to wait.

 

Calleigh didn’t have to wait long. The door opened a short while later and Father Peter Dupree entered,  
attired as he would be to celebrate the Mass.

 

“May God’s Love soon find you, Penitent,” he greeted kindly.

 

“My name is Calleigh Duquesne, not Penitent.” She said calmly; looking him over. He was older, a little graying, but still just as powerfully built. Okay, scratch the idea of physical resistance; he’ll snap you like a twig. Time to demonstrate that blonde doesn’t automatically equal dumb …

 

“That wasn’t polite, Penitent,” Dupree said. “You have much catechism to learn, child. You will need to work  
extra hard to learn your true place in the world. We should begin. Let us pray: You deserve, O God that all  
men should come to know truth and be saved. Send them, we pray, workers into your harvest field, and give  
them the power boldly to proclaim your word. Thus may your gospel be received and honored throughout the  
world, and every people know you, the one true God, and your Son whom you have sent, our Lord Jesus  
Christ. Amen.” He approached her and smeared oil on her forehead. “I claim you for the Holy Roman  
Church.”

 

“Too late,” She jerked her head away. “I was baptized a long time ago. I’m Episcopalian by the way.”

 

“Then not only are you a penitent, but a heretic as well,” Dupree said. He turned his back on her crossing the  
room and stopping by the lone crank. He turned the crank several times. Each turn of the crank drew the  
rope behind Calleigh higher, gradually forcing her to get to her feet. As she rose, he spoke, “I am going to  
tell you which are man’s treasures on earth so you won’t slight them: hunger, thirst, heat, pain, dishonor,  
poverty, loneliness, betrayal, slander, prison…I endured all of those when you sent me to prison for doing  
God’s work. You gave me such treasures and that is why I want to save you in return; and you will be saved.  
You will be brought to God.” Seeing that he had Calleigh in exactly the place he wanted her, he stopped  
cranking and locked it in place. She was now on her toes and struggling for balance, arms pulled up behind  
her, causing her more than mild discomfort. For the thousandth time Calleigh cursed her genetic bad luck at  
being born short.

 

“Now we shall begin your catechism,” he instructed. “Repeat to me the Pater Noster.”

 

“Excuse me; the what?” She’d play his game for a while so she could judge his insanity level  
Wrong answer, Penitent. He unlocked the crank and turned it a notch. “Recite the Our Father.”

 

“Oh. Our Father that art in Heaven-“ she cut off as her arms were jerked sharply upward.

 

“In Latin, Penitent,” Dupree said sternly.

 

“I don’t know it in Latin,” she gasped. It was hard to breathe with her arms twisted upward behind her. This  
is supposed to be easy to handle? I’m in serious trouble.

 

“Then learn it. Repeat after me: Pater Noster”

 

Her Protestant upbringing reared its ugly head. She balked. “No, I won’t.”

 

Dupree shook his head sadly as he unlocked the crank and turned it until Calleigh dangled a foot off the floor.  
He let her hang there a few moments before dropping her until her toes just brushed the floor. He stopped  
her with a jerk and was rewarded with a pained grunt. “Repeat after me: Pater Noster-“

 

Not going to happen pal! Calleigh drew a breath. “No, I won’t.”

 

“Penitent, I’m trying to teach you.” He drew her up again and let her drop, receiving another pained grunt for  
his efforts. “It will be easier on you if you stop fighting me and learn your catechism. Learn it in the language  
of Our Lord.”

 

Calleigh raised her head, looking his straight in the eye, her gaze full of defiance. It was a pretty neat trick  
considering her arms, back and chest were experiencing new levels of pain every time she breathed. “Then  
that should be in Aramaic, not Latin. The Hebrews of the region of Galilee spoke Aramaic. Only the Romans  
spoke Latin. You’re a priest. You should know that. Didn’t they show The Passion of the Christ in prison?  
Jesus was a Hebrew and therefore spoke Aramaic.”

 

“Do not blaspheme!”

 

Dupree moved like lightning, slapping her sharply across the mouth.

 

Temper, temper …Feeling a small trickle of blood run from the corner of her mouth, Calleigh challenged  
again, “When Jesus was put on the cross the ROMANS in LATIN placed above his head a placard saying that  
he was King of the Jews. Jesus was Jewish.”

 

“Do not preach to me what is in the New Testament; you are a heretic,”Again, he slapped her sharply across  
the mouth. “You know nothing and speak only with the Devil’s tongue.”

 

“You’ve got to being kidding me!” Calleigh muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. He obviously didn’t  
believe in loving thy neighbor …

 

Dupree returned to his place by the crank. “Say the Pater Noster in Latin. Repeat after me…”

 

“I said, no.”

 

Dupree raised and dropped her again.


	5. Chapter 5

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 5

 

Stetler stepped off the elevator and strode down the corridor headed for Horatio’s office, casually glancing  
through the glass walls of the individual labs as he passed them. He slowed his pace; working IAB meant  
developing a highly tuned subterfuge radar. Something was going on. For now, he wanted to find Horatio. He  
had a few hard questions to ask him and first thing in the morning was always the best time; most people  
couldn’t lie worth a damn before ten o’clock

 

He took the stairs to Horatio’s office two at a time. Pushing the door open without knocking he barked.  
“Caine, I need to speak with Ms. Duquesne about her behavior on that crime scene yesterday. I’ve heard she  
isn’t in Firearms. Where is she?”

 

“Not now, Rick. We’re all a bit busy at the moment; so if you’ll take yourself out of here and come back later,  
it would be greatly appreciated.” Horatio said automatically reading a file, not really hearing what was just  
said. He was riding the outer edge of exhaustion after pulling an all-nighter chasing leads on Dupree. None of  
the team had gone home; they all were dead on their feet, but completely determined to get to Calleigh  
before Dupree did anything more to her.

 

“I said that I need to speak with Ms. Duquesne about her behavior at the crime scene yesterday.” Rick took  
the file from Horatio’s hands. “Where is she?”

 

“Damned if I know.” Horatio slumped exhaustedly in his chair. “She was taken last night around 6:45. The  
guy has a history with her; she put him away, now he’s out with revenge on his mind. He abducts and  
tortures his victims.”

 

Rick leaned on Horatio’s desk, concerned. “How much of a warning did you get about this?”

 

“Not much. Calleigh got a call yesterday morning and brought it to my attention. We did what we could, but  
it wasn’t enough. He has her,” Horatio said, guilt coloring his words. “So unless you want to roll up your  
sleeves and help, I suggest you leave and let us work on finding her.

 

“This team shouldn’t be working the investigation. It’s too personal.” Stetler stated without much conviction.  
He knew Horatio and the loyalty he showed his team all too well.

 

“That’s exactly why this team is working the investigation Rick. She’s not some random vic with a toe tag  
down in the morgue.” Horatio rose from his chair and put his hands on his hips. “She’s a member of this  
team; we will move heaven and earth to find her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”  
Horatio brushed past Stetler and exited his office.

 

 

 

“Cooper,” Horatio strode into the AV lab. “What do you have for me?”

 

“It took me all night, but I think I have a lead,” Cooper said with a yawn. “Calleigh uncovered yesterday that  
Dupree bought a ’92 Bronco in Louisiana; they would still have the temporary plates. You need a permanent  
address to get the other ones. I already had Eric put a BOLO out on those plates. The dealership said he  
bought it under the name of “Father Peters”. That’s the first time he’s used the alias; so Calleigh set me on  
tracking down Father Peters. I didn’t have any luck with it until this morning; the good father next shows up  
at a U-Haul rental where he rented a truck and paid cash, mentioning that he has to move a mission to  
Miami.”

 

“So we have stated intent. That’s premeditation,” Horatio said, feeling a little satisfied. “Continue, please.”

 

“So, our Father Peters picks up whatever he has in storage at a Public Storage facility; I was about to call  
them and check into it. At this point he drops off the grid until he hits Ocala. I need to find out what  
happened there. He finally turns up in Miami about a month ago, buying some wood working tools at a Home  
Depot near the Glades.” Dan looked up at Horatio. “Just how sick is this guy?”

 

“He won’t kill her,” Horatio said gravely. “But he can do a great deal of damage; we need to find her before it  
becomes permanent.”

 

 

 

Calleigh came to with her arms still tied behind her. Opening her eyes, she levered herself into an upright  
position. Her back, chest and shoulders throbbed with every beat of her heart. She wondered briefly how  
much damage had been done already.

 

“Oh God,” she groaned.

 

“That you should call upon God is good, Penitent. As The Way says: Don’t miss a chance to “give in”. It’s  
hard-but how pleasing in the eyes of God,” Dupree said from across the room. “Now that you’ve had your  
little rest, we can continue our catechism. I hope you’ll be more co-operative this time.” Dupree used the  
crank to pull her up again as he had before.

 

Okay, this was getting old … “You know this is pointless, Dupree.” The slap across her face came like  
lightning, once again shocking her.

 

“FATHER Dupree, Penitent.” He said forcefully. “I am an ordained Catholic priest and will not be addressed in  
the familiar! Now, we will begin on the Symbolum Apostolorum. Repeat it to me in the language of Our  
Lord-”

 

“You’ve learned Aramaic while I was out?” Calleigh asked sweetly, spitting blood from her split lip. “Well,  
then you’re a quicker study than I thought.”

 

He lifted her and dropped her. “In Latin, you heathen,” he growled.

 

“I don’t know Latin and I don’t know Aramaic; I’ve told you that. I speak precisely two languages; English  
and Spanish.” Calleigh grunted in pain; raising her head defiantly. “I don’t know why you can’t get that  
through your thick skull.”

 

The tension suddenly lessened and her arms came down. Though relieved, Calleigh was immediately  
suspicious. Okay, what’s he doing now?

 

In a friendly tone, Dupree asked, “Penitent, do you know a womans’ place in the world?”

 

“Of course I do,” Calleigh said, covertly rolling her shoulders to relieve the pain.

 

“Tell me then, what you think it is.”

 

Dammit, he talked me into a corner. Oh well, might as well plunge ahead. “As a child of the ERA; anyplace  
she wants to be whether it is in the bedroom or the boardroom. Anywhere where she can do good and make  
this world a better and safer place to be.” Calleigh said confidently. “That’s why I became a criminalist.”

 

“Do you not think it would be better for you to be a wife and mother and keep the home?” Dupree asked,  
eyes glittering darkly.

 

“Well, that hasn’t happened, now has it?” She replied, trying to gauge his mood. Was he trying to  
understand her or lull her into a false sense of security? “Why are you asking me this?”

 

“To see how far you’ve strayed from God’s Will.” He pulled her arms up behind her again, and was rewarded  
with a small groan of pain. “You have strayed far, Penitent. There is much atonement needed.”

 

“Listen, this isn’t the Middle Ages anymore,” Calleigh gasped. “The Church doesn’t have that kind of power it  
had over peoples’ lives. People make their own decisions without running to a priest for advice all the time.”

 

“Heretic; stop your Satanic lies!” Dupree pulled her up until she dangled over the floor.

 

“They’re not lies; women live on their own; they work outside the home and no one stops them.” She broke  
off as he dropped her a little; gasping for breath as her shoulders screamed in agony. “Dammit; listen to  
me!”

 

Dupree slapped her face, making her swing a little. “No swearing!”

 

“Well, that got your attention, didn’t it?” Calleigh shot back in an effort to keep her voice from wavering from  
the pain. “Hell, if I had known sooner-“

 

She broke off as a blow landed in her midsection and a bright flare of pain erupted. Do not cry. You will not  
cry. “What…did…you-“

 

“Cursing.” He dropped her to the floor and left her there.


	6. Chapter 6

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 6

 

Ryan held the phone and waited for someone to pick up. On the fourth ring, his patience was rewarded.

 

“Hello, this is Bill Richardson, owner and proprietor or Richardson’s Tannery. The shop is closed right now due  
to a buying trip. You can either leave a message or call back late afternoon 12-16. Thank you for your  
patience and patronage.”

 

“This is Ryan Wolfe from the Miami Dade Crime Lab. I will be calling back later this afternoon regarding any  
information you can provide for me regarding a Father Peters. I can’t elaborate, but your information is  
critical to an ongoing investigation. Thank you and I look forward to talking with you.” Ryan cut the  
connection and promptly punched the lab table. “Damn, damn, damn!”

 

“What’s wrong?” Natalia asked entering the DNA lab and seeing his frustrated expression.

 

“I’ve just tried the tanner; the shop is closed until sometime this afternoon. I’ve left a message, but I don’t  
have time to play phone tag!” Ryan said irritably. “He’s had her all night; I can’t stop thinking about the  
photos from the file. It’s making me sick knowing that Calleigh is going through that!”

 

“Ryan, she’s a strong, god-awful stubborn southern woman. I know you’re worried; we all are, but we have  
to be patient and follow the evidence. Didn’t you just teach me that? If we rush we might miss something  
critical and it’ll take even longer to find her,” Natalia said calmly. In truth, she was anything but. She was just as worried as the guys were. After it came out that she was the mole, no one wanted anything to do with her. It was Calleigh who stopped to listen to her; to trust what she said. Calleigh was the first person to give her a second chance when no one else would.

 

“It’s taken all morning to track this tanner down and we’re still no closer to finding her. We’ve lost half a day,  
if we don’t get a solid lead in the next 24 hours, we may never find her.” Ryan paced the lab, frustration  
oozing from every pore. He stopped pacing and fixed Natalia with a steady gaze. “If that happens her file will  
end up on your desk as a cold case.”

 

It was freezing and it hit her hard, startling her awake. She gasped, struggling into a sitting position, pain  
lancing through her arms, shoulders and chest as her muscles protested the motion. Her midsection ached  
from the punch Dupree had given her. She raised her hand to wipe the water from her eyes and shivered.  
That bastard dumped cold water over me.

 

“What do you want now?” she asked in a tone of complete irritation.

 

“You have displayed a marked lack of manners and lady-like behavior and have displayed a penchant for foul  
language. It is far worse than I had thought and now you must learn humility and meekness.” Dupree said  
sadly. His heart really did go out to his penitent. She could be so perfect, such an instrument of God if only  
she’d stop fighting and learn.

 

Lack of manners? Lack of proper lady-like behavior? Fondness of foul language? Stop beating me and I’ll  
stop cursing, asshole. Her Southern stubbornness and pride kicked in. She was, if nothing else, a southern  
lady. “Now I am offended, Father Dupree. You have insulted my upbringing.” Such as it was….

 

“Then your parents must be disappointed in you.” Dupree grabbed her by the wrists and dragged her, despite  
her spirited resistance, to the post in the center of the room, locking her wrists in the rings, trapping her.  
Avoiding her kicking legs, he unlaced the back of the hair shirt, laying it open. Her skin was red and irritated,  
looking very much like she had laid in the sun far too long and had given herself a nasty sunburn. “Have you  
learned anything from wearing the penitents’ shirt?”

 

“Goat skin will never make the Paris fashion scene,” she shot back, relieved to have the irritating garment  
away from her skin. It was rubbing her raw. It had started out as merely annoying, but had rapidly grown to  
downright painful. It had been constructed in such a way as to be snug enough to have maximum contact  
with her skin, yet loose enough to rub with every movement, every breath. Her entire body, from neck to  
knees, felt as if she had the worst sunburn of her life and some idiot kept slapping it, thinking it was funny.  
How long before this thing makes me bleed from the friction?

 

Dupree slapped the center of her back and was rewarded with a cry of pain. “Sarcasm tells me that you have  
learned nothing.” He slapped her again.” The Way says: “Unless you mortify yourself you’ll never be a  
prayerful soul.” It also says: “Where there is no mortification, there is no virtue.” Humility is a virtue,  
Penitent, and one you’re lacking; you will learn it.” With a final, almost bruising slap, he turned away from  
her and went to the far wall, contemplating which device would best suit his lesson.

 

Calleigh’s head was reeling from the agony; her vision clouded from the tears she fought to keep from  
falling. She tried to follow Dupree’s movements. What was he doing now? She tested her bonds, but they  
were far too secure. Her wrists were in metal cuffs. She looked back over at him in time to see him take  
down a three-tailed rope flagellum. Each rope length varied and the ends were knotted. That doesn’t look too  
bad.

 

Her hopes were dashed when he took a couple of practice swings and the knots rent the air with a nasty  
hum. She was reminded of poor Ana Morales and how she had been beaten with a bar of soap tied inside a  
pillowcase. It hadn’t broken her skin, but had given her internal injuries. Calleigh closed her eyes and waited  
for the first blow.

 

“There are nine Beatitudes. I will recite them and if you are lacking in that grace, then you shall receive the  
number of lashes of that grace. Beatitude one: Blessed be the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of  
Heaven.”

 

Calleigh winced, steeling herself for the blow.

 

“Your spirit is poor and weak, Penitent. You give in to worldliness. There is no correction. Beatitude two:  
Blessed are they that mourn, for they will be comforted. I have seen you cry at my last Chapel. Your heart  
was mourning and for that you will receive no correction. Beatitude three: Blessed are the meek, for they  
shall inherit the earth. This is where you need to learn,” Dupree said, voice ringing with regretful judgment.

 

Calleigh gasped in shock as the first blow fell; each knot doing a very credible impersonation of a fist. The  
shortest length fell just to the right of her spine, sending pain shooting down her right leg. The second length  
punched her in the kidney, making her cry out and the third wrapped around her waist and landed squarely  
in her stomach, forcing the air out of her. The following two blows each landed in trios of pain, each in  
different spots. She clenched her jaw, panting, blinking back tears as bright flares of pain erupted with each  
blow. Alright, I can pass out now. Please?

 

“Beatitude four: Blessed are those that hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled. This is a  
hard one, Penitent, for I see that hunger in you. You thirst for righteousness enough to trespass into the  
realm of mens’ work. For that you shall only receive half the blows. Thus, I judge you.”

 

Both blows fell swiftly; one to the left, almost identical to the right hand blow and the second to her right  
shoulder, the longest punching her in the chest, briefly disturbing her heartbeat. It was a long moment  
before Calleigh could draw enough breath to speak.

 

“Doesn’t the Bible say: “Judge not, lest ye be judged”? What right do you have to judge me and my life?”  
she gasped painfully, yet with spirit. Come on, guys. It’s been nearly an entire day. For Gods’ sake, you’re  
CSI’s. Where are you? I don’t know how much more I can take. Horatio….Eric…somebody.

 

“Do not quote the Bible to me you heathen!” Dupree roared, bringing the flagellum down over and over, only  
stopping when he saw she was unconscious.

 

 

 

Ryan checked his watch. 5:08 pm. Figuring that it was late enough and a half an hour later than the last time  
he tried, he dialed Richardson’s again.

 

“Hello Richardson’s. This is Bill speaking.”

 

“Mr. Richardson, this is Ryan Wolfe from the Miami Dade Crime Lab.”

 

“Ah, yes, I just finished listening to your message. How can I help ya?” he drawled.

 

Ryan cleared his throat. “Mr. Richardson, in the last three months has a Catholic priest named Father Peters  
made any purchases from you?”

 

There was a silence and then the sound of papers rustling. “Excuse me, son, I’m checking my receipts. Yeah,  
here it is! He came in about a month and a half ago.”

 

Finally, they were getting somewhere. The knot of stress in Ryan’s stomach loosened a little“Can you tell me  
what he bought?”

 

“Yeah; he bought two unprocessed goat hides, a couple of spools of sinew, the real stuff not the synthetic, a  
leather punch, an extra long length of leather lacing and a leather needle.” Mr. Richardson supplied helpfully.  
“He was real kindly. Has something happened to him?”

 

“That is part of an ongoing investigation and I can’t discuss it,” Ryan said. “Did Father Peters say what he  
was going to do with those supplies?”

 

Yeah I thought him wantin’ the unprocessed skins was a bit weird. That means they ain’t been scraped of  
hair or tanned. Anyways, he said he wanted to tan ‘em himself; said he was a teacher of religious history and  
was trying to experiment with a section on the Inquisition. I told him that he needed to scrape that hair or it  
was gonna be like sandpaper if he didn’t. He said it was ok.” Richardson said. There was a sound of a bell in  
the background and someone calling a greeting. “Hey Sam! I’ll be with ya in a minute! Son, I’m the only one  
in the shop and I just got me a customer. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

 

“No, Mr. Richardson. You’ve given me something to work with. If I have any questions I’ll call you back.  
Thank you.” Ryan said, hanging up. He flipped open his laptop, brought up the internet and began his  
research based on the new information.

 

 

 

“Horatio, I have something!” Ryan exclaimed, catching up to his boss in the break room.

 

Horatio looked up from his sixth cup of coffee. The day shift had long gone, save for Horatio and his team,  
and the night shift had settled in and taken over the lab. “What is it?”

 

“I finally talked to Mr. Richardson in Ocala.” Ryan poured himself a cup and sat down; eyes red and burning  
from lack of sleep. He laid out the list of supplies that Dupree had bought and what he said he wanted them  
for. “Remembering what Calleigh said about Dupree calling his vics “Penitents” got me thinking. I did some  
research on the web. It took me a while, but I finally narrowed it down; he made her a medieval penitent’s  
hair shirt. It’s supposed to be worn under the clothing for private atonement or as the only garment for  
public atonement. The shirt is meant to be irritating to the skin as a constant reminder of the sin; if worn too  
long, it rubs the skin raw enough to bleed. It’s like wearing a sandpaper tunic.”

 

She had been suffering even before we found her clothes. Horatio’s gut twisted in another bout of guilt,he  
rubbed at the red stubble that fuzzed his face. “He’s had her in that thing for over 24 hours already; Eric  
didn’t get anything more from her clothing other than her own skin cells and body fluids. Mr. Wolfe, good  
work. Why don’t you go home and try to get some sleep?”

 

“I won’t be able to sleep.” Ryan said. “I’ll lie on my back, staring at the ceiling and wanting to be here trying  
to do something constructive.”

 

“Alright, go see if Eric or Natalia need help.” Horatio said, understanding what the young man was going  
through. I can’t sleep either, Mr. Wolfe. None of us can.

 

 

 

Calleigh awoke alone in the Chapel. She glanced around. The one high window showed that the sky was dark  
and for once, she wasn’t secured down. Saturday night; I should be curled up on my sofa with a bowl of  
popcorn and a good movie or maybe out with some friends, not here.

 

She tried to sit up, but the agony that lanced through her body caused her to flop back down with a sob. She  
looked up at the window again, so impossibly far away. If she could only get to it, she could push it open or  
break it and escape. Steeling herself against the effects of her injuries, she slowly dragged herself across the  
floor toward the window and freedom; heart, mind and will focused solely on escape.

 

Halfway across the floor she began to shake from the pain wracking her body. She ruthlessly fought the pain  
and inched forward. Once under the window, she laid on the cool floor to regain some strength to make the  
climb that could have been the peak of Mount Everest in her weakened state.

 

Shaking, sobbing, she slowly pulled herself up step by painful step, climbing the table next to the cabinet to  
reach the window. Finally she stood; supporting herself on the wall and pushed at the window, scraping  
herself on one of the nails that held it shut. With a sob of despair, she hammered on the window in an  
attempt to break it, but her blows were too weak. Suddenly, she lost her balance and fell to the floor.  
Intense agony exploded through her body. She curled up into a fetal position and wept.


	7. Chapter 7

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 7

 

Ice water shocked Calleigh into consciousness.

 

“Wake up, Penitent.” He grabbed her by the wrists and dragged her to the other side of the room, dropping  
her to the floor. “You tried to leave during the night, didn’t you? I nailed the window shut just in case you  
thought to leave your schooling.”

 

Shivering from the chill of the water, she looked up at him. He was back in his formal priest’s robes. Oh, no,  
Sunday morning; don’t tell me that he is going to make me sit through-

 

“It’s time to celebrate the sacrifice of the Mass, Penitent; your first in learning your Catechism.”

 

Summoning the strength to speak despite everything in her screaming for rest, she said, “I am not Catholic  
and will not willingly go to Mass.”

 

His motions were so swift that Calleigh had no time to react. Almost 48 hours of abuse had taken its toll on  
her; reactions were slow, and her strength was nearly gone. She struggled with Dupree, but her blows were  
weak, made weaker by the constant unrelenting pain that had become her constant companion.

 

Dupree had no trouble picking her up and depositing her on the table that Calleigh had first noticed on  
Friday. He secured her arms above her head and her legs straight down. The knobs built into the base of the  
table dug cruelly into her severely bruised and abused muscles; she began to black out from the pain only to  
be brought sharply to consciousness by yet more ice water dashed over her. An ice cube cut her cheek, blood  
welled and began a slow migration towards to her ear. She shivered, teeth chattering.

 

“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, amen. The grace of God the Father and of  
the Lord Jesus Christ be with you,” Dupree said, waiting for the customary response. All he received was a  
soft whimpering. “Penitent, the response is: And also with you.”

 

Calleigh shook her head, jaw clenched, fighting the pain. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

 

“There is a price for your stubbornness, Penitent. You know that.” Dupree turned the crank on the table  
which drew Calleigh’s arms further over her head and her legs completely straight, putting a mild strain on  
her already screaming limbs. She let out another whimper.

 

“My sister, to prepare ourselves to celebrate the sacred mysteries, let us call to mind our sins.” Dupree  
paused, obviously calling to his mind his own sins.

 

Add abduction and torture to those, you bastard. How can you be a man of the cloth? How did the priesthood  
let you in? How could they not tell that you’re a monster? How could they not know? “I don’t need a priest  
between me and God; and I do not confess.” She choked and then let out a scream as Dupree turned the  
crank a couple of notches, the action pulling Calleigh’s arms and legs further.

 

“I confess to Almighty God and to you, my sister, that I have sinned through my own faults and in my  
thoughts and my words; in what I have done and in what I have failed to do. I ask blessed Mary, ever virgin,  
all the angels and saints, and you, my sister, to pray for me to the Lord our God. The response is: Lord, have  
mercy.”

 

God may be merciful but you wouldn’t know mercy if it bit you in the ass. Calleigh gasped for air. She felt as  
if her entire body was on fire; drawing enough air to just breathe was enough. She had none to spare for  
speaking. An unwanted tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She shook her head and then let out a  
choking scream as Dupree turned the crank again. Her vision swam.

 

“The response is: Lord, have mercy.” Dupree said, hand resting lightly on the crank. Why is she so stubborn?  
Why is she so resisting in accepting the loving embrace of the Lord?

 

Calleigh was beyond being able to reply. She could barely breathe and couldn’t hear beyond the roaring in  
her ears. Each joint was screaming in agony and it felt like she was being torn apart. So this is the drawing  
part of drawing and quartering….. her fevered mind quipped. She shook her head, and then screamed as  
Dupree turned the crank again and she felt something in her right shoulder give way. The world went black.

 

 

 

Eric paced outside the Home Depot in the late afternoon. He squinted at the setting sun, waiting for the  
manager to show up and open up so that he could continue the investigation. In that community, working on  
a Sunday was something you just didn’t do, regardless of corporate rules.

 

He rubbed his face tiredly. He hadn’t gone home to change clothes nor had he slept since Calleigh had been  
taken. Had he even eaten anything since then? He couldn’t remember.

 

Normally he would respect peoples’ private religious convictions, but not today. Not when it interfered with  
an investigation and put someone he loved dearly, was family to him, in further danger and continued  
suffering. He growled irritatedly, looking at his watch. 4:17pm.; almost 48 hours had past. It was closing in  
on the critical time span when victims were either saved or lost.

 

The manager finally pulled into the parking lot. He took his time parking his car before getting out and  
walking over to Eric.

 

“I am Victor Ibarra. You are Detective Delko?” Ibarra asked in lightly accented English. He was short and  
stocky with abundant black hair and dark brown eyes. He was clearly annoyed. “This is the Sabbath.”

 

“Yeah, well this is a police investigation. Crime doesn’t stop on Sundays and neither does MDPD. We never  
close. Do you recognize this man?” Eric held up a picture of Dupree.

 

Ibarra squinted at the photograph, noticing the clerical collar. “I don’t know. It’s the Sabbath. I should be  
home with my family. Maybe if you come back tomorrow I’ll remember.”

 

“Listen, this guy abducts and tortures women. Right now he has a young woman that he took early Friday  
night and I can guarantee that he’s beating the hell out of her as we speak. Her safety and recovery hinge on  
your co-operation, Mr. Ibarra. Do you recognize this man?” Eric did his level best to keep from growling at  
the man. Knots of worry and fear were old buddies in his stomach by now and were growing and producing  
families with every passing hour. It was killing him to know that his best friend was enduring things that no  
one should ever have to endure and there was nothing he could do about it right then.

 

The manager looked at the photo again, not wanting to believe that a man of the cloth, that kindly  
gentleman, abducted and tortured women. Then he remembered that Father Peters had only wanted to deal  
with men and that he looked at the female employees with such pity and sadness in his eyes. When he is  
finished with the woman he has now, will he take one of my girls? Three of his daughters worked there. One  
was the evening manager and two worked the floor. He couldn’t take that chance. That woman was  
someone’s daughter, too. “I have seen him. His name is Father Peters. He’s been in here a few times for  
building supplies, I think.”

 

Eric let out a breath. Thank God for small favors. “Do you remember what he bought?”

 

“It was building supplies. Nails, wood, chains; nothing unusual for someone doing home repair or minor  
building.”

 

“Do you remember anything that he said about the materials?”

 

“Yes, I think I do. He said that he was building a mission not too far from here. I remember this because I  
thought it was a good thing to have a Catholic mission in the community. It would give the young ones a  
place to go and help them stay out of the gangs. But that was several weeks ago and I have not seen any  
rehab work or any new building since then. Has he truly been hurting women?” Ibarra asked. “I have  
daughters.”

 

“Yes he does, Mr. Ibarra.”

 

“Then I wish I could help you more. May God guide your hands in finding that young woman in time to save  
her.”

 

“H, Mr. Ibarra, the manager of the Home Depot near the ‘Glades told me that Dupree told him that he was  
building a mission somewhere in the area. He said he hadn’t seen any activity of that kind in the area so-“

 

“That means it’s in the ‘Glades somewhere.” Horatio finished for him. He put his hands on his hips. “There  
are a lot of abandoned warehouses out there, Eric. We’ll need to search them one by one. Either way, we’re  
bringing her home by sunrise. She’s not spending one more day in that sick bastard’s hands.”


	8. Chapter 8

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 8

 

“Alright, you’ve been given your team assignments. We will begin here and then search in an ever increasing  
spiral until CSI Duquesne is found. Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot stress to you how dangerous this man is.  
Who ever locates him, do not attempt to apprehend him yourself. Call for back-up.” Horatio stood in the  
parking lot of the Home Depot that Mr. Ibarra generously offered for them to use as base camp. There had to  
be more than half of MDPD standing there, waiting for instructions; the calm before the storm. “I want  
regular check-ins every fifteen minutes. We have Rescue on call. This man has had CSI Duquesne for over 48  
hours and her condition is unknown at this time. She may be able to walk away on her own or she may need  
any manner of medical assistance including emergency intervention. Let’s move out. Dupree is going down  
before the sun rises.”

 

 

 

She tried to fight him with everything she had in her, but her legs wouldn’t hold her and her right shoulder  
was swollen and on fire. She had so little strength left and could not suppress a cry of anguish as Dupree  
dragged her back to the post and locked her in. He unlaced her tunic, once again laying it open, baring her  
back. Welts and bruises from the last time he had her at the post glowed against her reddened skin, blood  
welled in spots that had been rubbed raw.

 

“Blessed be pain. Sanctified be pain…..Glorified be pain,” he quoted from “The Way”.

 

Doesn’t he ever quit? Calleigh raised her head, determined to resist no matter how much she hurt. “More  
lessons?” she said weakly.

 

Dupree pointed to the small tattoo on her hip. It was of a magnolia blossom. “You marked your body with  
foul poison, Penitent.”

 

“It’s my body and I’ll do with it as I please,” she gasped.

 

“It is the vessel that God gave you and you have fouled it.” Dupree spat. He turned and went to the wall like  
he had done the last time and considered carefully before taking down a whip and made a few practice  
swings. It was also made of rope and tri-tailed, but the ends of these tails ended to metal balls. They made a  
harsh high whistle in the air.

 

“I think we shall try the Stations of the Cross this evening.” He said pleasantly, like a man choosing an  
entrée at his favorite restaurant. “I want no more foul language from you, Penitent; one more foul word and  
I’ll beat it out of you.”

 

“You’ll beat me anyway so why should I care what language I use?” Calleigh challenged. Regardless of how  
badly she hurt she wouldn’t give him what he wanted without a serious fight. Her body would eventually  
heal. “What is it now; whips again?”

 

“Only if you answer incorrectly or curse,” he said reasonably.

 

“Well, you’d better start swinging because I don’t know what the Stations of the Cross are, how many and I  
can’t recite them. It’s your religion not mine. When are you going to get that through your thick dumbass  
skull?” Calleigh said recklessly, sounding a little like Frank. It made her smile slightly, thinking of the big  
tough Texan and how many coffees he’d bought her after she whomped him good on the firing range.  
Her smile was erased as the lash struck her back, splitting skin. Blood ran from the gash. She cried out as a  
second and third blow fell.

 

 

 

The search was now heading into its fourth hour with no luck. They had checked half a dozen abandoned  
buildings only to find one alligator nest and lots of rats. The spiral was now a solid mile away from Home  
Depot and Horatio was afraid that the trail was going cold. The magic 48 had come and gone. Every minute  
that ticked by was another minute that made the trail colder. His heart clenched at the prospect of finding  
Calleigh only to have already lost her; her mind snapped and gone. Please hold on, Sweetheart. We’re  
coming. Just a little longer.

 

“Caine and Delko checking in; still no luck. We’re moving off to the next location. Out.”

 

The lash landed again. “The fourth Station: Jesus meets his mother. Say it.”

 

Calleigh took a ragged breath, praying for unconsciousness. “No.”

 

He struck her again, opening another set of wounds. “The fourth Station: Jesus meets his mother. Say it.”  
Calleigh could feel warm blood running down her back; she was kneeling in it as it pooled on the floor. She  
raised her head, defiance burning in her eyes. “Shove it.”

 

 

 

“H, I think I have tire tracks,” Eric said, shining his light on them. “They look fresh; and are consistent with  
the kind used on early ‘90’s Ford Broncos. Should we follow them? It’ll take us off the search spiral.”

 

“What does your gut tell you?” Horatio asked, looking over at his former brother in law. They were both  
completely exhausted, but hope fuelled them on.

 

“Follow the tracks,” Eric replied without hesitation.

 

They set off after the tracks.

 

 

 

Dupree let the lash fall again and was rewarded by another cry of pain. Her cries were nearly screams and he  
finally felt that he might be breaking her resistance. “The seventh Station, Penitent. Jesus falls a second  
time. Repeat it.” All he received was a groan. She was nearly unconscious. He grabbed her by the hair and  
slapped her face, waking her. “Say it.”

 

“Screw you.”

 

She screamed as the lash fell again and again.

 

 

 

“Eric, do you see that light over there?” Horatio asked, pointing to a faint glimmer. It was nearly  
indistinguishable in the darkness, yet the glow was like that of a stained glass window; very out of place in  
the middle of the Everglades.

 

Eric turned off his flashlight and let his eyes get adjusted to the darkness. He looked to where Horatio  
pointed. Sure enough, there was a light. “It’s got to be Dupree’s nest. The tire tracks are leading in that  
direction.” Please let it be Dupree. Please don’t let it be another dead end.

 

They began to carefully pick their way over the brush and around mud holes, careful to constantly check that  
the tire tracks were still leading them in that direction. It was barely audible, but both men had been silent  
and were so highly attuned to any foreign sound that it rang like a clear bell; a high-pitched scream.

 

“Calleigh,” Horatio breathed, his stomach dropping at the anguish in the cry. Oh dear God, what’s he doing  
to her to make her scream? He whipped out his walkie. “This is Lt. Caine and CSI Delko. We’ve found her.  
Repeat; we’ve found her. Back-up and Rescue needed. We are approximately one mile northwest of the base  
camp. Track my cell. We’re going in; Caine out.”

 

Another scream drifted to them on the still night air. Without a word, both men took off at a dead run for the  
light source, flashlights carefully trained on the ground, alerting them to any dangers. Having one of them  
hurt would be a disaster. As they neared what looked like to be an old concrete bunker left over from a  
quarry of some sort, a white Ford Bronco loomed up at them. Eric trained his flashlight on the license tag.  
“Louisiana temporary tags,” he panted. He could feel the rage build inside him and he fought it down. They  
couldn’t afford to do anything more to Dupree than arrest him; not if they wanted to make all charges stick.  
Horatio and Eric took up positions on either side of the old office door and caught their breath. They listened  
carefully for sounds inside. There was the faint sound of a man’s voice reciting something, it seemed. A  
pause; the scream nearly tore their hearts from their chests.

 

“Screw back-up. We’re going in. He’s not touching her again.” Horatio said, drawing his firearm.

 

“It sounds like he’s killing her,” Eric said tightly, shouldering the door in. It gave easily enough and hadn’t  
even been locked.

 

They cautiously entered and found themselves in what appeared to have once been the main office. It now  
contained a small table, coffee maker in place and a microwave. A small dorm-style refrigerator stood in the  
corner and there was a small writing desk and cot, crucifix hanging above the bed. Everything was  
preternaturally neat; prison or monastery neat. There was a door opposite the one they entered. It obviously  
led to the main part of the building. The man’s voice was louder now from the other side of the door, but the  
words were indistinct.

 

“Home, sweet home,” Horatio said darkly. Like Eric, he fought his rage. He wanted to beat Dupree as badly  
as Dupree was beating Calleigh, but he knew he’d have to let the justice system do it for him. He’d beat  
Dupree with evidence and make him bleed from the forensics. He nodded to Eric and they once again took up  
residence on either side of the door. Calleigh’s scream covered their entrance.

 

Eric broke the door open on a scene from Hell.


	9. Chapter 9

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 9

 

Eric broke the door open on a scene from Hell.

 

Dupree stood over Calleigh, whip held ready for another blow. Her blood dripped from the tips. She was  
kneeling in a pool of her own blood, her head down, barely conscious.

 

“Miami-Dade Police; drop it now, Dupree.” Horatio couldn’t keep the rage from his voice. “If you so much as  
twitch that thing at her again, I’ll beat you to death myself.”

 

Dupree dropped the whip and put his hands in the air. “There’s no need for the gun. I’ll accept my penance.”

 

You’re going to wish for something as light as penance, asshole. “Lay on your stomach, hands behind you.”

 

Horatio cuffed him, and then stood, keeping his foot on the back of Dupree’s neck to keep him from moving.  
Eric holstered his weapon and knelt at Calleigh’s side. With hands that shook badly, he felt for her pulse. It  
was weak, yet regular. He stroked her dirty, matted and blood-stained hair. “Calleigh, can you hear me?”  
Please, please let her be…be Calleigh.

 

“It’s about damn time.” Her voice was soft, raspy and weak from the screaming. She drew a pained breath.  
“Start processing the evidence; document, bag and tag.”

 

He couldn’t move; he didn’t want to. “Calleigh, you need medical attention.”

 

“What I need is him put away.” She whispered. “As much as I want your comfort right now, it has to wait.  
Stop contaminating the evidence. I’m evidence; process me.” I’m safe now. I’ll be ok, I think. Hurry, Eric, I  
need help. I need Rescue to get me to a hospital. I’m not stupid enough to think I can walk out of here. I  
can’t walk at all.

 

Damn it, Delko, you’re a CSI and this is your job. Calleigh’s going to need expert documentation to make  
sure this monster is put away forever. Reluctantly, but knowing she was right; Eric stood, drew on gloves and  
began to photograph her injuries. He felt wrong doing it, like a paparazzi taking embarrassing pictures of  
people in vulnerable positions. Get over the fact that she’s practically your sister in all but DNA and treat this  
like any other crime scene.

 

Once all the photos of Calleigh and the post, blood pool and restraints were shot, he knelt again, not caring  
that her blood soaked into the knees of his trousers. He gently sprung the release on the restraints that kept  
Calleigh captive. She slumped into his waiting arms, letting out a weak whimper. He tried his best to cradle  
her without hurting her more, hating the disjointed feel of her normally fit body. Something was terribly  
wrong with her. He remembered the brief hug on the roof just a few days ago. Her body was trim, fit, hearty,  
now it felt…wrong, like something tried to pull her apart.

 

He tried to shift her into a more comfortable position. She let out a cry. “I’m sorry, Cal. I didn’t men to hurt  
you.”

 

“S’ok; I know,” she whispered, burying her face in his shoulder. Calleigh couldn’t fight it any longer and  
whimpered like a wounded animal. All she wanted to do was curl up and cry until she had no more tears.

 

Horatio watched it all from across the room, most of his attention on Dupree and keeping him secure. He had  
been dimly aware of some sort of conversation between Eric and Calleigh and then Eric standing and  
photographing her for evidence. His heart twisted. She was evidence. It did not escape his notice when Eric  
released her from the post and the almost lifeless way she slumped into his arms.

 

He wanted to be the one that was comforting Calleigh, but he had to keep Dupree from trying to escape.  
“How is she, Eric?” he asked roughly.

 

Eric knew what Horatio meant; her physical state was obvious. “She needs medical attention, but she’s still  
our Calleigh. She gave me grief for not processing the evidence first.”

 

A wave of relief swept over Horatio and he almost laughed. That a girl, Calleigh, he thought. He raised his  
voice and used a tone that was reserved for living victims. “You’re going to be ok, Sweetheart. We’re going to  
get you out of here; Rescue is on its way. You hang in there.”

 

“I’m not a four-year-old,” she rasped into Eric’s shoulder, irritation dripping from every word.  
Eric stifled a laugh.

 

Horatio felt his blood pressure rise. Why was Eric laughing? Just what about Calleigh being nearly beaten to  
death did he find so damned amusing? “What’s so funny?” He asked.

 

“Change your tone of voice. You’re pissing her off,” Eric replied with a slight grin. There was the sound of a  
helicopter approaching and then sounds of sirens wailing in the distance. He cuddled her a little closer,  
resting his cheek on her head.

 

“The cavalry has arrived,” Horatio said as the Rescue team arrived. Knowing that they’d be processing and  
assessing a female victim, the partners were women as well.

 

“Officer Duquesne, I’m Tina.” One of them approached Eric and Calleigh while the other one went to retrieve  
further supplies from the chopper. She knelt down. “Can you hear me?”

 

“I can hear you,” she replied softly, opening her eyes and looking at the woman. She was slender and had  
long dark brown hair that was secured back in a braid.

 

“Good, it’ll be easier if you can respond to my questions,” Tina said, horrified at the other woman’s condition.  
Her training taught her to reign in her reactions. “Other than your back, where else are you hurt?”

 

“Try everywhere; my back, shoulders, chest, hips, knees….I hurt everywhere.” Calleigh choked. “My right  
shoulder is the worst. I know I felt it give way when he…he..”

 

“It’s alright,” Tina said soothingly. What this woman must have gone through… “I’m going to examine you to  
assess your injuries better. I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I need to let the trauma center know what to expect.”

 

“Ok.”

 

Tina gently began examining her patient, growing more horrified by the second at the bruises and contusions  
covering her body. She was not deaf to the soft cries and whimpers her touch elicited, no matter how gentle  
she was. The woman’s ankles had abrasions, but other than that, only slight bruising and a little swelling.  
Tina’s hands traveled up the legs to the knees. Bruised and swollen, they could be sprained, or perhaps  
strained or even dislocated; the hospital would know better. She traveled up to the hips and found the same  
story there.

 

“Alright, Officer Duquesne, are you still with me?”

 

“Yeah,” her voice was almost inaudible. The examination had cost her dearly. She fought unconsciousness.

 

“You said that your right shoulder was the worst. I need to assess that. I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I need to  
move it.” Tina said, gently taking the right forearm and supporting it. It already felt disjointed and loose. She  
began to lift it.

 

Calleigh cried out and went limp in Eric’s arms.

 

“She’s out,” Eric said tightly. “She’s got to be in agony.”

 

“Yeah, she is. Being unconscious is probably for the best now. Her shoulder is dislocated. It’ll be torture to  
move her.” She turned her attention to her partner. “Andrea, let’s load her now while she’s out. It’ll be easier  
on her.”

 

Eric was reluctant to let Calleigh go, but only did so because he knew there was nothing he could do for her  
and that a medical team was waiting for her. He put her on the waiting gurney. “H, I want to go with her to  
the hospital. She doesn’t need to come to surrounded by strangers.”

 

“Holy shit!” Frank exclaimed, entering the “Chapel”, Ryan and Natalia close on his heels.

 

“Frank, take him. Eric, you run the investigation. Process every inch of this place. I’m going with her.”

 

Horatio ordered. He had to be with her; to touch her and assure himself that she was still there. He followed  
the gurney out without waiting for an answer from Eric. Frank was already shoving Dupree out the door and  
swearing under his breath.

 

“Yeah,” Eric muttered. He changed his gloves; looking up at the sound of someone fighting retching. He  
caught sight of Natalia bolting from the room. Eric moved off after her.

 

“Wait, Delko,” Ryan said, stopping him. “You’re covered in blood. You should let Rescue check you out.”

 

“I’m fine, Wolfe. None of it’s mine; it’s Calleigh’s.” His voice was flat, emotionless. He began to remove his  
shirt, then his pants. “Bag them; they’re evidence.”

 

 

 

Horatio waited by the chopper as the EMT’s secured Calleigh for the flight. Only when he got the sign did he  
enter and settle himself next to Calleigh. She was ghastly pale from blood loss making the bruises on her  
face stand out in stark contrast. He took her chill hand in his warm one. “This is my fault, Sweetheart. I’m  
sorry doesn’t even cut it. He took you on my watch. I should have left you with Eric.”  
She stirred, opening her eyes. “’ratio? Not your fault.”

 

“Sh-h-h, don’t talk. You’re on your way to the hospital,” he cooed.

 

“Dupree?”

 

“In custody; Frank has him.”

 

“Good, tell Frank to throw the book at him.”

 

“Close your eyes and rest now. I’ll be here the whole time.” Horatio said. He heard her breathe something  
and then her eyes slid shut. She gave his hand a slight squeeze before sleep claimed her.


	10. Chapter 10

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 10

 

What were they saying? Who are they? Why are they touching me? Oh dear God, they’re hurting me. Get away from me! Calleigh panicked and thrashed with all her might, which in her weakened state wasn’t much,  
knocking aside the trauma center staff. One attempted to get her free wrist into a restraint. Calleigh  
screamed. Suddenly, a warm, calm, familiar voice rose above the din.

 

“Step away from her immediately; you’re scaring the hell out of her!” Alexx commanded, fierce  
protectiveness making hers a tone no one wanted to argue with. She approached a whimpering and shaking  
Calleigh. Ever so gently she reached out and stroked the younger woman’s cheek. “Calleigh, baby, open your  
eyes. It’s ok. You’re in the hospital. Take it easy.”

 

Calleigh opened her eyes to see Alexx’s kind face. “Alexx.”

 

“That’s right, baby girl. You’re going to be alright now,” Alexx said her voice a soothing balm. Her educated  
physician’s eyes took in her friend’s condition and she was sickened by what she saw; what Dupree did to  
her. “You sure put up a fight just now.”

 

‘I’m sorry; I panicked. I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?” Calleigh whispered. She knew she should feel bad about  
her behavior, but she didn’t. Hadn’t anyone told those people what she went through? Didn’t they know not  
to grab and twist and pull? Didn’t they know that it was agony to just breathe?

 

“No, Calleigh, you didn’t. But I don’t think they expected you to fight with them. They’re a trauma team and  
should have known better. Are you better now?” Alexx asked, seeing the pain in Calleigh’s eyes.  
“No; I think I made it worse. I know my…my…”

 

“Sh-h-h, I’ll get the doctors. Try to relax now.” Alexx said, moving out into the corridor. She leveled a steady  
gaze at them. “Ms. Duquesne is calm and perfectly rational, no thanks to any of you. You frightened her  
badly, she panicked and that’s why she fought. Understand that this woman has been kidnapped, held in  
restraints, tortured and beaten. For her sake as well as your own, be gentle with her; talk to her and tell her  
what you’re doing. If she knows what to expect she’ll remain calm.”

 

“Doctor Woods, since you know the patient, will you stay and keep her calm?” Doctor Evans asked. He  
rubbed at an already blackening eye. He was rather young and it was his first trauma center rotation.  
“I’ll stay with her as long as I’m welcome.” Alexx replied. “You better put something on that eye.”

 

 

 

My fault; this is all my fault. Horatio paced outside the trauma center doors, Calleigh’s screams still echoing  
in his ears. Calleigh said she doesn’t blame me but I blame myself. It was my watch and now she’s beaten  
and broken and in a level of pain that I can’t even begin to imagine. He sat on the hard plastic seat and put his head in his hands.

 

“She’ll be fine, Horatio. She’s too stubborn to be anything else but fine.” Frank said, sitting next to him and  
holding out a cup of coffee. “You’re still blaming yourself, aren’t you?”

 

“I can’t help it, Frank.” Horatio took the coffee, sipped and grimaced at its bitterness. “How can I not feel  
responsible?”

 

“Well, you didn’t beat the living hell out of her; Dupree did that. The fact that that bastard had to hit you  
from behind tells me that deep down he’s a coward. He beats up on women, for Chrissake. Only a coward  
would ever raise a hand to a woman.” Frank said, trying to ease Horatio’s conscience. He had no idea how  
badly Calleigh had been hurt, but the trauma team had been working on her for a long time. He looked up as  
Alexx exited the doors.

 

“How is she, Alexx?” Horatio asked, rising and going to meet her.

 

“I’m not going to lie, Horatio; she’s not good. That son of a bitch really did a number on her; I’m glad found  
her when you did, he nearly beat her to death.” Alexx steered them back to the chairs and sat down. “She  
lost a good deal of blood and is very weak. Dupree managed to dislocate her right shoulder and nearly  
dislocate every major joint and he broke three of her ribs. She has bruises, abrasions and contusions over  
most of her body. Her back has been torn open. The gashes are long but shallow. She won’t need stitches,  
but there may be some scarring. It’s too early to know if she has any internal injuries, but I’ll bet my  
paycheck for the next year that there are. She’s got a long road ahead of her, but she’ll heal.”

 

“She was lucid at the crime scene, but she was screaming in there. What happened?” Horatio asked in a  
tight voice.

 

“They scared her; she panicked and gave a doctor a black eye. She’ll be fine; the doctor’s ego, not so much.”  
Alexx allowed a small smile to cross her lips. ““Although with a wake-up like that, I’d suggest that one of us  
in with her for the next couple of days just so she won’t wake up alone in an unfamiliar place and panic  
again.”

 

“I’ll take the first shift.” Horatio volunteered. “She was taken on my watch; I’ll stay,”

 

“Now Horatio, you haven’t slept since Friday. You need to go home and get some rest.” Alexx said  
reasonably, knowing it would get her nowhere. “You’re no good to any of us unless you close those eyes for a  
few hours.”

 

“I’m still taking the first watch.” Horatio replied in a quiet but firm voice that dared Alexx to contradict him.  
“I’ll sleep in the chair.”

 

 

 

Eric, after spending hours in Fingerprints printing every torture device from the chamber, entered DNA to  
bring his findings to Natalia. No one except Dupree had touched anything. His grimies were all over them. It  
made Eric sick. Five minutes, just give me five minutes with that guy.

 

He opened the door and his greeting died on his lips; Natalia sat at the lab table, head hanging and  
shoulders shaking. She had just begun processing the whip with Calleigh’s blood on it.

 

“’Talia,” Eric stepped up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “It’s ok.”

 

“No, it’s not. I started to process the whip,” She turned to him, eyes puffy and red. “It’s not just blood; there  
are bits of skin imbedded in the joints between the metal and the leather. Calleigh’s blood, Then I looked  
over at your shirt and pants and I just couldn’t take it.” She broke down in tears.

 

“I know. This one is personal. Evidence isn’t just evidence here.” Eric pulled her into a hug. “Calleigh is one  
of ours and although she still has her own voice, we need to let the evidence back her up. Believe me, every  
time I printed one of those….things, I got sick to my stomach just thinking of Dupree using them on Calleigh.  
I just want five minutes alone with him.”

 

Natalia had never heard his voice so filled with rage before. “You two are really close, aren’t you?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, we are. We go back almost ten years.” Eric said, a slight smile on his face. “She was the first  
person I met here after Horatio,”

 

“From that smile on your face, it’s a pleasant memory.” Natalia pulled out of his embrace. “Tell me about it.”

 

“H had just finished giving me the tour of Fingerprints and we were just about to go into Firearms when  
Calleigh came flying out like a bat out of hell. She crashed into us and nearly knocked us over. That was my  
first look at her; hip length hair, big green eyes all lit up with excitement. She opened her mouth and out  
came a list of firearms characteristics that made my head spin. She had just gotten a definitive test fire that  
completely broke the case that she’d been slaving over for two weeks. H introduced us and told me to  
partner up with her and go get the bad guy. We’ve been friends ever since.”

 

“Were you, you know, ever more?” Natalia asked. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’ve never seen such a tight  
friendship between people of the opposite sex before.”

 

“No. We toyed with the idea a couple of years ago, then Calleigh started dating this Homicide detective, John  
Hagen, and things just fizzled out.” Eric said. “They fizzled out too, but Hagen kept his hopes up.”

 

“So, is Hagen still bugging her?”

 

“No. He’ll never bug her again. Listen, don’t let Cal know I told you this. Hagen committed suicide in front of  
her right on her firing range.” Eric said quietly. “That’s why she was in Tox when you started here; she had to  
transfer out of Firearms to cope.”

 

“I wondered about that. She transferred back to Firearms a few months after I started.” Natalia nodded,  
understanding. “No one would tell me why. I guess you don’t tell the new kid all the secrets, huh. I won’t say  
a word.” She sighed and looked at the whip again.

 

The shift in mood wasn’t lost on Eric. “Want some help, being that you’re a trainee CSI and all?”

 

“Yeah, thanks.”

 

 

 

Horatio gazed at Calleigh peaceful features as she slept. The cuts and bruises stood out starkly on her pale  
features, but at least she was now being taken care of. Hatred for Dupree burned white hot inside him. The  
only thing that was sharper was his feelings of guilt.

 

“I’m sorry, Calleigh.”He leaned over and stroked her hair. “This was all may fault I should have been more  
vigilant I should have kept a better watch.”

 

A small sound escaped her lips as her eyes opened a crack. “No, not your fault, Horatio.”

 

“Sh-h-h, rest; don’t try to talk, Sweetheart.” He said softly. “Save your strength.”

 

Her eyes opened further and she looked around. “Why am I on my side?”

 

“Because your back needs to heal before you can lay on it. Now didn’t I just tell you to not to talk?” he  
admonished gently. “Go back to sleep.”

 

“That wasn’t too bad.” She shifted slightly, wincing. “Could I have some water?”

 

Horatio poured her a cup, careful to place a bendy straw in it before holding the end of the straw to her lips.  
“Take it slow. If you drink it too fast, it’ll cramp your stomach.”

 

She swallowed several times, the cool liquid like heaven in her mouth. It was a huge effort to stop herself.  
“I’m so thirsty. Dupree wouldn’t give me anything to drink or eat. It’s not your fault, Horatio. I don’t blame  
you for what happened. Alexx said that he hit you from behind; you couldn’t have prevented that. I didn’t  
hear him either; I was just pulling out my firearm when I heard you drop, then he covered my nose and  
mouth and then I woke up ….there.” She shifted again, jarring her right shoulder this time. She let out a  
small cry.

 

Horatio jumped up from his chair. “No, Sweetheart, don’t do that! What do you need? Let me do it for you.  
You’ve been through enough pain already.”

 

“I’m sorry; I was just trying to get a little more comfortable.” Tears stood in her eyes.

 

Horatio took her hand. “Sweetheart, you’ve been through a lot. Go easy on yourself and rest. “Go on, close  
your eyes.”

 

“Alright,” she said, her eyes already drifting shut.


	11. Chapter 11

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 11

 

Eric paced the interrogation room like a lion ready to pounce on the nearest wildebeest; his jaw was  
clenched, his hands balled into white knuckled fists. Fury radiated out of him in waves so strong that lab  
techs walked on the other side of the corridor as they passed just to put extra distance between themselves  
and the enraged Cuban. The only person brave enough to be in the room with Eric was Frank, and only  
because he was nearly as angry.

 

“Now remember, Delko,” Frank said as calmly as he could. “You can't do to him what you want to; what we  
all want to. Talk; don't touch, we clear?”

 

“It’s easy for you to say, Frank; you didn't see her and you didn't hold her. Her blood didn't soak into your  
clothes. Do not lecture me.” Eric snapped. “You didn't hear her scream as he whipped her, you didn't have to  
process her while she continued to suffer.” Eric remembered it all too clearly; the limp, disjointed weight of  
her in his arms, the rasp of her voice as she struggled to speak; her cries of pain while the EMT did her best  
to cause as little pain as possible. “She was broken; he nearly killed her so don't tell me to take it easy.”

 

“I know, Eric; I care about Calleigh, too,” Frank said softly. “She'll kill me if she ever found out I told you  
this, but she fainted in Horatio's office the day Dupree abducted her; she was that frightened. That's not the  
Calleigh that beats my ass on the firing range every time. I have never seen her that fragile. She may be just  
a bit of a thing, but to me she's always fearless; you don't think it hurt to see her that vulnerable?”

 

“Ok, point taken,” Eric said as Dupree was led in non-too-gently by a patrol officer. “I won't touch the  
bastard no matter how much he provokes me.”

 

“Thanks, Jeffers,” Frank said as Jeffers roughly shoved Dupree into a chair. It was obvious that the officer  
knew exactly who Dupree was and what he had done and was taking it just as personally as everyone else in  
the building. “Alright, Dupree, why did you take her?”

 

“I am a Catholic priest. I will be addressed as such,” Dupree said calmly. “ 'A priest-whoever he may be-is  
always another Christ. To love God and not revere the priest...this is not possible.' ”

 

Tripp rolled his eyes. “Look Dupree-”

 

“ 'Though you know it well I want to remind you again that a priest is another “Christ”; and that the Holy  
Spirit said: Nolite tangere Christos meos- Do not touch my Christs.” Dupree quoted mildly, for the entire  
world like the teaching father he was supposed to be.

 

Eric looked over at Frank, who was about to blow. He leaned in, placing his hands on the table. “Father  
Dupree, why did you take CSI Duquesne?”

 

“My son, it’s simple; she needed salvation. She had lost her way, if she even knew what it was. It’s obvious  
by her lifestyle, her immodest dress and career choice; a woman truly dedicated to Christ would not dress  
that way and would, as being a single woman, still be living with her parents. Once married, she would not  
work outside the home and she would raise the children.” Dupree said reasonably, voice laced with regret. “I  
wanted to help her. I didn't have enough time,”

 

Eric clenched his jaw and began to flick the photographs that he had taken of Calleigh's injuries out onto the  
table in front of Dupree. To his satisfaction, the priest seemed to be genuinely bothered by them.  
“You call that helping her? I call it systematically beating and torturing her.”

 

“Please take them away; the pictures are immodest.” Dupree pleaded. " I have no wish to look at pictures of  
a naked woman. It wouldn't be pious for me to look at them,”

 

“You put those marks there, dumbass,” Frank growled. “What's the matter, not proud of your work;  
squeamish?”

 

“She needed to learn; she has so much to learn. I was her teacher and I was to bring her to God,” Dupree  
explained. “She was so resisting. I wanted to treat her gently, but she fought me every step of the way. I  
had to be rough; it was the only way I could make her see.”

 

“You took a happy, healthy, blindingly intelligent woman at the top of her field for what,” Eric snapped,  
leaning in, using his bulk to try to intimidate. “That woman is my colleague and my friend. She has my  
respect and the respect of every person in this building, she has helped to give voice to innocent victims and  
bring their killers to justice. Don't you think that's a calling? Why would God give her all that intelligence and  
the right circumstances for it to flourish if He wanted her never to use it?”

 

Dupree sat, completely unruffled by Eric's impassioned speech. “She may have worldly intelligence, which is  
the work of the Devil, but not Godly intelligence, which comes from the Divine.”

 

“This is unbelievable! Do either of us look like we just fell off the turnip truck?”Frank rolled his eyes,  
remembering that kind of talk back in Texas. “You took her because she humiliated you and put you away.  
You wanted revenge; admit it. You hate her for what she did.”

 

“No, my son, I love her for what she did. She was God's Instrument in showing me the errors of my  
ways.”Dupree shook his head sadly. Why couldn't these people understand that he had done it for her soul's  
salvation? “I wasn't good enough; I didn't try hard enough to bring those women into the Light of God's  
Love. To repay her, I wanted to save her. I was to be her redemption and she, mine.”

 

“Well, while you were trying to save her, you nearly killed her. She's in the Intensive Care Unit right now  
fighting for her life.” Eric growled, shoving a pad of paper and a pen toward Dupree. “She's picked up an  
infection and if the doctors can't stop it she could die. If she does, you'll be facing murder one. Abduction,  
assault and battery of a police officer will only get you 30 – 35 years at best. Murder one will get you life. So,  
if you love her like you say, you'd better start writing everything you did to her. Everything; look on it as a  
confession.”

 

“I'm not lying. It was out of Divine Love that I did what I did. She is too tender-hearted and gentle to be out  
in a man's world. She needs the comfort and safety of Holy Mother Church.”Dupree took up the pen. “Did  
you know that she cried when she ...what do you call it...processed my first Chapel? She tried to hide it, but  
she did; I saw it. Someone that tender needs not to be out in the brutal world. It will kill her soul.”

 

Bile rose in Eric's throat. No wonder Calleigh is so nearly pathological in not letting anyone see her as anything other than 100 percent at any time. He felt sick and realized that he needed to get out of there. “Frank, get his confession.”

 

He strode out the door and directly to the Mens'. He barely made it to the toilet before he threw up.

 

 

 

Alexx sat on Calleigh's bed, smoothing a cool cloth across the other woman's forehead. It had been nearly 24  
hours since the infection had set in and the doctors were frantically trying to beat it down. They had  
overloaded Calleigh's system with antibiotics, but they seemed to be taking their sweet time in working. In  
the meantime, Calleigh's temperature had soared to a whopping 104 degrees. Normally, they would have  
immersed her whole body in cool water, but they didn't dare try it with the extent of her injuries. If her  
temperature didn't go down soon, they were afraid of brain damage.

 

“Come on, baby, you've got to keep fighting. I know you're tired, but don't give up, not now that you're  
safe.” Alexx pleaded with her unconscious friend. She removed the now warm cloth from Calleigh's forehead  
and dropped it back in the ice water, removing another and repeating the process. “Don't let some little old  
bug from the 'Glades beat you. You're tougher than that.”

 

 

 

Ryan sat holding Calleigh's hand while she slept. Her fever had broken over the night and the infection finally  
began to weaken in response to the antibiotics. She was going to be alright. However, a side effect of the  
antibiotic overload was that she had slept 36 hours straight. Her fever had broken, but it was clear that she  
had lost some weight. Between the prolonged sleep and her captivity, she had had nothing to eat in almost  
five days.

 

.“C'mon, babe, you have to wake up. I know that sleep is healing, but so is waking up and eating.” Ryan got  
up from the chair, sat on the bed, taking great care not to jar her and stroked her cheek “If you don't wake  
up soon, the doc is going to come in here and stick you with another IV feed.” He paused, looking at her cut  
and bruised, but peaceful face.

 

“Calleigh, I'm going to tell you this while I can. I look up to you. When I came into the lab, processing your  
dad's case, and I still don't like him and all the problems he causes in your life by the way, I grew to admire  
the grace with which you handle it and everything else. You are my mentor and friend. I'm beyond glad that  
you're going to be ok because I can't see my life or work in the lab without you. I don't even mind it when  
you yell at me. It means you care. Aw Calleigh, please wake up.”

 

“I've been awake since you sat on the bed,” Calleigh said softly, opening her eyes. She smiled warmly at  
him. “Thank you for saying what you did. I do yell because I do care and it's not just about the evidence.”  
“H-how do you feel?” Ryan asked, his cheeks coloring in embarrassment.

 

Calleigh lay silent for a moment, considering. Her stomach growled loudly.

 

“Hungry,” she replied with a small laugh. Her laughter turned into a cry of pain as her side throbbed.

 

“Easy, easy; you have a couple of broken ribs,” Ryan soothed. Suddenly his eyes lit up and a goofy grin  
spread across his face. “You're laughing, Calleigh. That bastard beat you up, but he didn't break you; you're  
ok. I was worried.”

 

“Hey, I get it.”Calleigh looked up at him and saw tears standing in his eyes. That spoke more to her than any  
speech could have. She reached over and took his hand. “I love you, too, baby brother.”

 

“You said you were hungry.” Ryan chuckled, understanding the depth of emotion that made her acknowledge  
him as family and was touched deeply by it. “What do you want? I won’t swear to it personally, but I’ve  
heard the food in this place is actually edible.”

 

“How about some scrambled eggs and grits? I probably shouldn't have anything too solid just yet.” Calleigh  
said. “I'd love a big old glass of grapefruit juice too.”

 

 

 

“State of Florida vs. Father Peter Dupree S.J.,” the bailiff read. “One count of abduction and systematic  
torture of a Miami Dade CSI ,two counts of assault of Miami Dade CSI's. The State asks for no bail as the  
defendant has already proven a flight risk from the state of Louisiana.”

 

“The State's request is granted.” Judge Harold Hirsh flipped through the case file, sickened at what he saw.  
“Bail is denied for Father Dupree. Is there anything else?”

 

“The State requests and expedited trial date your Honor.”

 

Judge Hirsh raised an eyebrow. “Does the State say why?”

 

“May it please the Court; the integrity of the evidence is time sensitive .”

 

“Granted.”The Judge understood immediately. Good tactic. The injuries will still be fresh. ““Jury selection  
begins immediately. Opening statements begin Monday morning, December 26 at 9a.m.”  
He flipped through some papers until he found what he was looking for. “Room 412, Judge Adam Garcia.”


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

 

Eric stopped at Calleigh's door and listened to the voices inside; relief flooded through him so hard that his  
eyes watered. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Ryan was supporting her weight as the bed rose  
itself into a sitting position. Thank God she's finally awake.

 

“Eric!” Calleigh exclaimed, smiling brightly; wincing slightly as Ryan lowered her back to the pillows.  
His heart eased further that despite the wince, her smile remained. “Hey, Cal; it's about time you woke up,  
lazybones.”

 

“I'm going to go find a nurse and order you that meal,” Ryan said, brushing past Eric. “Hey, Delko.”

 

“Hey.” Eric sat on the bed facing Calleigh. He leaned over and brushed a soft kiss on her forehead before  
resting his there. “You scared us all pretty badly, you know.”

 

“Yeah,” she breathed. She cleared her throat. “Ryan told me that y'all did a 'round the clock vigil in here  
since...”

 

“Yeah, we did. You'd do the same for me. Calleigh, when you got that infection, we almost lost you.” Eric  
pulled back; the last thing he wanted was to upset her. “All I could think of is that I just lost Mari. I couldn't  
bear to lose you, too. You know how much-”

 

“Eric,” Tears welled in her eyes and she looked down. She shifted slightly and let out a soft cry. “Please  
don't.”

 

“What's wrong?” Flashes of early Monday morning danced before his eyes. “What's the matter? Should I get  
a nurse?”

 

“It's ok; really. I moved and I'm one big bruise. It's all just a dull ache compared to before. Anything is  
better than compared to...before.” Ok, not handling my emotions really well here. Need to change the subject. She took a deep a breath as her ribs would allow. “So, do I look as bad as I feel?”

 

Eric held her hand, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “No,” he lied.

 

“You are so lying, Eric. I can always tell when you're lying. Look, I know I'm bruised and bloodied and my lip  
was split nearly half a dozen times. I know I have a nasty cut on my cheek. So how bad is it? No lying  
Delko.” Calleigh said firmly, using the last name ‘I-mean-it card’.

 

“You really want to know?” Eric said, eying her carefully. “You look like you went a couple of rounds with  
Mike Tyson.”

 

“Yeah, but I still have both my ears,” she joked, laughing, and then immediately regretted it. “Ouch; damn!  
Stupid broken ribs…”

 

Ryan opened the door, coming into the room. “Cal, you're tray is on the way up.”

 

She gave him one of her sweetest smiles. “Thanks, Ryan.”

 

“Listen, Wolfe, I'll take over here.” Eric said. “Go home and get some sleep; you've been here all night,”

 

“Like you've slept any,” Ryan challenged and then yawned.

 

“Beat it, Wolfe,” Eric replied.

 

“Wait a minute here. What is this; the both of you not sleeping?” She looked the two men over carefully.  
They were both on the edge of exhaustion. “You should both go. I'll be fine on my own. Go.”

 

“Nothing doing, Calleigh; I'm staying put. It's my turn.” Eric said stubbornly. “Besides, you might need help.”  
“Well, then I'll go.” Ryan said, opening the door. “See you guys later.”

 

“Get some rest, Ryan and don't come back here until you do,” Calleigh said sternly. Looks like I still need to  
take care of him after all this time. When did I become 'mommy' around the lab? Now for you, mister.  
She turned her attention to Eric. “Eric-”

 

“Oh no you don't; if it had been me, you wouldn't have slept, either.” Eric said stubbornly. “And don't you  
dare tell me no; knowing the case history and all, we were worried. I think H still hasn't slept much. Natalia  
lived in the lab until we found you.”

 

“I-” Calleigh looked down, a huge lump in her throat. Horatio, Eric, Ryan, Natalia, Alexx...What did I ever do  
to deserve such people in my life?

 

Just then there was a soft knock and the door swung open. In strode a nurse carrying a meal tray. Eric  
swung the tray table over and the nurse deposited Calleigh's tray there.

 

“Welcome back to the world, Officer Duquesne. After your prolonged nap, I'll bet you're good and hungry. My  
name is Colleen and I'll be your day nurse; just ring the call button when you're done. Let me know if there  
is anything I can get you.”

 

“Thank you, Colleen,” Calleigh said as Eric lifted the lid of the tray. As he slid the cutlery from the napkin, she  
felt her mouth begin to water. Her stomach rumbled again. With a very shaky hand, she reached out and  
grasped the fork. It weighed a ton and fell from her grip. She tried again and again it fell.

 

Eric picked up the fork for her. “Here, let me do that.”

 

He looked over at her when he heard a soft sniffle. He put the fork down and sidled in next to her, putting his  
arm gently around her shoulders. Eric pulled her to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, sniffling. “Hey,  
now; don't get upset. You've been through so much and you don't have your normal strength right now. So  
what that the fork is a little heavy? You're terminally right-handed anyway and can't use your left hand for  
shit and you know it. If I let you try to feed yourself with your left hand you'll take out an eye. C'mon, Cal,  
it's ok.”

 

She nodded, knowing he was right. She wiped her eyes. “I'm just so embarrassed. I can't believe that I can't  
even feed myself or control my own emotions right now.”

 

“It's ok; it'll get better. I promise I won't slop it all over you,” Eric said, trying to cheer up his friend. It  
bothered him badly to see her so physically and emotionally vulnerable. C'mon Cal, I'm using my A material  
here. Give me a little smile to let me know you're going to be ok.

 

It was almost as if she could read his mind. She gave him his sought after smile. “Promise?”

 

He smiled back at her, picking up a forkful of egg. “Promise.”

 

“So help me, if you do 'Here Comes the Airplane'...”

 

 

 

Horatio dozed in the chair next to Calleigh's bed. He did manage to get a few hours of sleep in his office, but  
a call came out and he had to roll out into the field. He had only relieved Eric in the last hour, sending the  
man home to rest. The night shift could handle the evening portion of the investigation. In truth, the night supervisor didn't mind at all. Both the night and swing shrift's teams had been overwhelmingly generous in their support of Horatio's team and very concerned about Calleigh's recovery.

 

Already Calleigh's room looked like a cross between an arboretum and a florists' shop with all the foliage  
crammed onto nearly every available horizontal surface. Her laptop with a stack of her favorite DVD's sat on  
the nightstand and the latest novel in the series she had been reading waited in the nightstand's top drawer.  
She was going to be here for quite a while and no one wanted a bored and restless Calleigh. That only  
spelled trouble for the hospital staff.

 

A sudden, distressed sound jolted Horatio to full wakefulness. He immediately looked to the bed; Calleigh  
was whimpering, making indistinct noises, head rolling side to side, obviously in the throes of a nightmare.  
Suddenly, she cried out and instinctively sat up, overtaxing her reserves. She slumped sideways as her  
muscles refused to hold her upright.

 

Horatio shot out of the chair and caught her, supporting her slight frame before she fell over and aggravated  
her injuries. She shook uncontrollably. “Easy, Sweetheart; I've got you.”

 

She let out a pained groan and then a small sob, burying her face in Horatio's chest. “Hurts,” she choked  
almost inaudibly.

 

“What hurts, Sweetheart?” Horatio coaxed, gently holding her. “Tell me; let me help you,”

 

“Shoulder...back,” she whispered.

 

“Do you need the nurse?” Horatio asked, cradling her to him. She felt so fragile and slight, as if he could  
break her with one hand. He knew it was an illusion brought on by her injuries, but it was not a sensation  
that he was enjoying at the moment. He'd give anything to have her hearty and well again.

 

Unable to stop herself, Calleigh said, “No, just this.” She let out another whimper and buried herself in  
deeper.

 

“Calleigh, you were having a nightmare. Do you want to tell me what it was?” he asked gently.  
She shook her head. “No, it was just a bad dream. I've had worse. I can't even remember it anyway.” She let  
out another groan.

 

“The nightmare's gone but you're still hurting.”

 

“No nurse.”

 

“Is it still your shoulder and back?” When she nodded, he asked, “Can I see? Maybe I can help.” A brief  
memory of her showing him the nasty bruise that the exemplar spear gun gave her flashed through his mind.  
She had been hurt, yes, but it had broken the case in more ways than one.

 

Calleigh nodded, showing an enormous amount of trust. It was not lost on Horatio as he carefully untied the  
back of her hospital gown, gently laying it aside. What he saw apaulled him. Bruises darkened her skin and  
there were large gashes striping her back, mostly scabbed over, but some had broken. “Calleigh, you're  
bleeding. I really should get a nurse.”

 

Her left hand weakly gripped his jacket lapel. “No, I don't want anyone; please. I just want this. I want to  
remember that touching doesn't have to hurt. I'm tired of being poked and pulled on.” She began to cry  
softly.

 

“It's ok; it's going to be ok. You're going to heal and we'll get you through this.” He cradled her closer,  
careful not to hurt her. Horatio allowed his fingers to gently skate across her injuries, not caring when they  
became slightly bloodied in the process. My God, that bastard tore her up. “Am I hurting you at all?”

 

“No.”

 

He kissed the top of her head and continued his exploration of her wounds, willing his fingers to leave healing  
and comfort in their wake. Moving lower down on her back, he tenderly stroked on bruised and swollen hip  
and then the other. She whimpered. “Did I hurt you?”

 

“A little; I trust you Horatio.” Her left hand let go of his lapel and snaked around his waist.

 

“You need to rest,” he said into her hair.

 

“I need this until I fall asleep,” she said drowsily, relaxing against him.

 

“Alright,” he said softly, tying her gown back up. He laid his cheek on her head and held her until sleep  
claimed her.

 

 

 

“Hey, you over there; you that priest?” Hank Kerner said in the exercise yard of the Dade County  
Correctional Facility.

 

Dupree looked over at him. “I'm a priest, yes; Father Dupree.”

 

“Boy, am I glad to meet you. I heard what you did to that bitch.” Kerner sat next to him, giving him a slap on  
the back. “It's about time someone taught her a lesson.”

 

“I will ask you to keep a civil tongue in your head.” Dupree said sharply. “How do you know her?'

 

“She put me in here twice. There is nothing that gets to me more than her arrogance in the courtroom. Her  
‘holier-than-thou CSIness’. I just want to...” Kerner stopped himself. He wanted to keep this man on his  
team, his side after the tales he heard about him. “I just wanted to say that I admire what you did. She had  
it coming to her.”

 

“She is arrogant and stubborn, yes, but she never really learned anything.” Dupree admitted. “I didn't have  
enough time with her.”

 

“But I heard you almost killed her,” Kerner said. “You didn't have time to finish the job?”

 

“I didn't have enough time to bring her to God and now, I suppose she'll be His instrument in keeping me  
here. This is the second time I've failed at her hands.”

 

“I know how you feel, Father. I know how you feel.” Kerner nodded. “If I ever get out of here, I'm paying her  
a visit, myself. I have a little score to settle.”


	13. Chapter 13

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 13

 

Calleigh lay on her left side, eyes shut. For once she was alone in her hospital room, and for once, she was  
glad. She was in no mood for visitors. Calleigh pressed her face into the pillow, letting out a small sniffle.  
A soft knock and then Horatio pushed open her door and entered. He swiftly took in the scene and knew  
something wasn't right. “Calleigh?” he asked softly.

 

“Hey,” she whispered her voice thick with unshed tears. She rubbed her face on the pillow and opened her  
eyes.

 

“What's this?” Horatio sat on the bed and brushed the hair away from her face.

 

“I've had a bad day,” she said unsteadily. “A really bad day.”

 

“Ok, tell me about it,” Horatio coaxed gently.

 

“I had my first physical therapy session today.” She carefully shifted onto her back, rubbing her eyes with  
her left hand; she couldn't hold it back any longer. Her face crumpled and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I  
can't do anything! I can't stand; I can't walk. I can't even use a single crutch to help bear my weight. I'm as  
weak as a kitten, Horatio. I can't-”

 

“Easy, Sweetheart; it's just the first day.” Horatio gently gathered her into his arms, always taking care to  
not jar her healing shoulder. “You have to be patient with yourself.”

 

“Last Friday I ran ten miles; now I can't even walk ten steps. Don't tell me to be patient with myself.”  
Anguished sobs wracked her slight frame. Damn him! “How am I supposed to go to court on Monday and  
give my testimony if I can't do anything for myself?”

 

“Show the jury that; let them really see what he did to you.” He stroked her hair as he held her. “You ran in  
the MDPD marathon last year and was the only CSI to cross the finish line in under 5 hours. We'll make sure  
that the jury knows that.”

 

“Four hours and forty minutes,” she said, and then began to cry harder, remembering the slow and painful  
way she had tried to walk less than an hour ago. She had fallen on her first step. The therapist didn't let her  
go very far, but it was still painful and disheartening.

 

“I know...I know.” Horatio began to gently rock her, becoming very aware of just how upset and demoralized  
she had become. His heart ached to see her this way, his own eyes beginning to well. He kissed the top of  
her head. “We'll get your PT's testimony as well. It can only help put him away,” he said hoarsely.  
“I hate being helpless and such a crybaby. Horatio, I'm sorry-”

 

“You are not helpless or a crybaby, Sweetheart. You've been beaten and tortured and you have to give  
yourself time to heal and regain your strength. You're used to doing things for yourself, and I bet it's been  
that way for a very long time. You have every right to be upset, but go easy on yourself. You'll regain your  
strength and things will be the way they were before. It's just going to take time.” Horatio soothed. “When is  
your next session?”

 

“Tomorrow morning at ten,” She looked up at him. “Why?”

 

He kissed her still damp cheek. “I'll be here.”

 

 

 

“Ryan, here, hang this,” Natalia said, tossing him the end of the garland. “I bet she's not expecting any of  
this.”

 

“Yeah,” He hung the garland around the bathroom doorway. “You know, with everything that's happened to  
her, I know she doesn't remember what today and tomorrow are. I almost forgot, myself, with finding  
Calleigh and her being in the hospital and all. It just hasn't felt all that much like Christmas, not that it ever  
does in Miami.”

 

“I know. If Alexx hadn't reminded me, I'd have totally forgotten all about it. It's not like I've been to the mall  
or anything before yesterday to get all this stuff.” .Natalia stood back and ran a critical eye over the  
decorations.

 

In the last 45 minutes she, Alexx, Ryan and Eric had made Calleigh's hospital room a winter wonderland,  
even if it was 85 degrees outside. Tiny Italian lights twinkled on the small Christmas tree they erected in the  
corner. The two doorways glittered from the bright garlands they hung, more Italian lights twinkling merrily  
there as well.

 

“We are some kick-ass elves.” Alexx nodded approvingly. She turned the warming plate a little lower.  
Everyone had contributed to a nice holiday dinner and she did not want it to burn. “Don't worry, baby, my  
mind hasn't been on Christmas, either. My kids wouldn't let me forget.”

 

“Turn off the lights!” Eric pulled his head back in from where he had been doing lookout duty. ”Here they  
come.”

 

 

 

Horatio stopped the wheelchair just outside her door and squat down next to her. “I know I just saw Eric so  
you have at least one visitor. Do you want to take a minute?”

 

Calleigh nodded eyes downcast. Today had been almost as bad as yesterday; the only thing making it any  
better had been Horatio's presence. She raised a hand to wipe away a few frustrated tears. “One day at a  
time, right?”

 

He gave her uninjured shoulder a little squeeze. “Right; are you ready?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Horatio pushed the door open and wheeled her inside, knowing full well as to what awaited her.  
There was no cries of 'surprise!'; no one jumping out and making noise, just the soft glow of the Italian  
lights, the warm scents of a well made meal and Christmas carols playing softly somewhere in the room.  
Calleigh let her gaze wander around the room, eyes taking in the lights and garlands, eventually landing on  
the small tree in the corner.

 

“Oh my God; I'd forgotten.” she whispered hoarsely, the decorations blurred through welling eyes.

 

“Then I'm glad that we didn't,” Eric said. He knelt by her wheelchair and brushed a light kiss on her cheek.  
“Merry Christmas.”

 

She sniffled a little. “You really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble.”

 

“We wanted to, Calleigh. Look, Horatio said that you were feeling a little down about your physical therapy,  
so we thought maybe a little Christmas cheer is what the doctor ordered,” Natalia said, handing Calleigh a  
small, light cup of Egg Nog.

 

“Then thank you guys. Your presents are under the tree in my living room.” Calleigh sipped the cold, thick  
liquid. She set the cup in her lap and wiped her tearing eyes. “I don't know what to say. I really don't.”

 

“Then don't say anything.” Horatio wheeled her over to her bed. “Do you want to try this on your own or do  
you want me to pick you up?”

 

Calleigh considered for a moment. I guess it's put up or shut up. I might as well try. “I'll give it a try, but-”

 

“I'll be right here.”

 

Horatio took her left arm to steady her as she attempted to rise. She unsteadily got to her feet, knees trying  
to buckle beneath her. She wavered and then couldn't hold herself up any longer. She slumped against him,  
shaking from the exertion.

 

“That's good. You stayed on your feet longer this time,” Horatio said as he scooped her up and gently  
deposited her in the bed. He drew the covers up over her.

 

“Yeah; that really hurt, though.” she said softly, then realised that she had a roomful of very special visitors.  
She raised her voice. “Do I smell honey ham?”

 

“You bet, sugar,” Alexx said, already dishing it out. “We have the whole works here including pumpkin and  
pecan pies for dessert. You're going to be the envy of the floor.”

 

“Check it out, Delko got a hold of 'A Christmas Carol'; the one with Alastair Sim,” Ryan bubbled.

 

“Yeah, I remembered that's your favorite one. But Wolfe remembered your favorite Christmas Carols.” He  
looked over at Calleigh, who was wiping her eyes. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “What's wrong?”

 

She gave him a watery smile. “Nothing at all. I just love y'all so much.”

 

“You know, you don't cry. I'm not used to it and so I don't know what the tears mean. So these are happy  
tears?” Eric asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then let's eat,” he grinned.

 

Dinner was accompanied by laughter and stories. Hearing the merriment, several of the nurses poked their  
heads in to see what was going on. More often than not, they were sent away with some sort of treat to  
enjoy. Even when Calleigh's doctor, Doctor Webber, came to check in on her before leaving for the evening,  
she was treated to a snack and some egg nog. The meal over, they set up Calleigh's laptop where they could  
all see it and, piling on or near the bed, sat and watched 'A Christmas Carol'.

 

At the end of the movie, Horatio looked down at Calleigh, whose head rested on his shoulder and smiled.  
“Uh, guys, I think we'd better go.”

 

Alexx smiled, affection for her friend shining in her eyes. “Looks like someone isn't waiting up for Santa this  
year.”

 

Quietly, she and the others cleaned up the remnants of the meal, turned out the lights and left.


	14. Chapter 14

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 14

 

Horatio pulled the Hummer into the designated spot for police officers at the Biscayne Courthouse. He cut the  
engine and looked over at his passenger. She looked a million miles away. “Hey, are you ok?”

 

Calleigh stood in the New Orleans courtroom at the end of the nightmare trial. The crazy priest was going in  
for almost thirty years and every time his parole came up for a hearing, she'd be there to make sure he  
never touched another woman again. The man was a monster; an animal. He couldn't be let out in society  
again.

 

“Miss,” he said softly, mildly, as he was led past her. “You've lost your way, you know. You're just as much a  
Penitent as those other poor women and need to learn your place in the world. You need to repent and take  
catechism. I am patient and when I do get out, I will find you and teach you your catechism. That's a  
promise.”

 

Calleigh looked into his eyes and went cold. She felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. The courtroom  
spun. He had meant every word and no matter how long it took, he would make good on his promise. He  
knees began to shake and she held on to the back of the chair in front of her for support.

 

“Calleigh, are you ok?” came Horatio's question a second time. He reached over and shook her shoulder. “Is  
everything alright?”

 

“What?” She was brought back to the present, jumping slightly at his touch. “Oh – yes I'm fine; I was just  
thinking.”

 

“Are you sure? The judge said that you could do this later in the week instead of today if you're not up to it,”  
Horatio reminded her, concern for her clear in his eyes. She normally didn't jump when someone touched  
her, especially not him. “You don’t have to put up a front with me …”

 

“Let's go do this.” Calleigh said with a confidence that wasn't quite up to what lay in her voice. “Let's put him  
away.”

 

“Alright.” With one, final measured look he opened his door, went to the rear of the Hummer, extracted and  
set up the wheelchair before wheeling it over, opening the door and lifting Calleigh out. He set her gently in  
the chair, helping her set her feet on the platforms. The slight grimace on her face told him volumes. “I  
know, sweetheart, you're hating every minute of this. Hang in there.”

 

Taking his time, he wheeled Calleigh into the courthouse and over to the correct courtroom. When they  
entered, Calleigh saw that Eric was already seated in the witness area. She briefly wondered why and then  
remembered that it was he and Horatio that found her and Eric was the one that did initial processing on her.  
Natalia apparently had finished the job while she had been unconscious in the ER. She would be called in  
later in the day to testify. Horatio parked her next to Eric in the empty space that had been left for her  
wheelchair.

 

“How are you holding up?” Eric asked softly. As far as he was concerned, she looked exhausted already and  
the trial hadn't even begun.

 

“I'm fine, Eric,” she replied with as bright a smile as she could muster. “I just want to get this over with.”

 

“Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced, looking her over carefully. Alexx had stopped by the hospital earlier in the  
morning to help Calleigh dress and ready herself for the trial. Alexx had chosen the outfit well. It was  
Calleigh's jet black pantsuit and white pinstriped blouse that only managed to enhance the marks of the  
beatings she had taken and played up the pallor of her complexion. There was no make-up; it would have hid  
the bruises too easily.

 

“You look tired, Cal. Why don't you close your eyes for a while until the judge gets here?” He smiled slightly.  
“Good news; you got Adam Garcia.”

 

“Good. He's a hanging judge when it comes to cop killers. He's going to love Dupree.” Calleigh replied. She  
stifled a yawn and closed her eyes. “Wake me when Judge Garcia gets here.”

 

“Will do,”

 

Calleigh began to doze, the voices of the lawyers and others becoming a low background buzz. Flashes of her  
own ordeal danced across her inner vision; instead of pushing them away, she began to embrace them in  
case they held any extra information that was vital to putting Dupree away.

 

Falling deeper into sleep, the images became more distinct and in far sharper detail. She lay on the cold  
floor, gasping for air, realizing that she needed to relieve herself badly. Dupree had left after pounding on  
her for the second time that day with the knotted flail. It was agonizing to breathe as her bruised body  
fought with her every breath. She whimpered and dragged herself over to the chamber pot that Dupree had  
left her. Struggling upright, she positioned herself over it and did what she needed to do, nearly passing out  
from the agony that lanced through her while doing so. She cried out and braced her back against the wall,  
sending another volley of pain through her body. Crawling off the chamber pot she turned and looked into it  
to try to discern what had caused her so much pain. It was tinged red with blood. He had beaten her so  
badly that...

 

“Hey, Cal...Calleigh,” Eric said, his voice flooded with concern. He rubbed her cheek gently. “Wake up. You're  
having a bad dream.”

 

“What?” she muttered, coming up out of the fog. “What did you say?”

 

“I said you were having a bad dream. You were sounding distressed.”

 

Damn him. “Thank you, Eric. I'd hate to embarrass myself any more than I already have,” she said steadily.  
Calleigh straightened herself in the chair. “I wasn't loud, was I?”

 

“No.” Eric said, wanting nothing more than to ask her what she had been dreaming about, but knew that it  
was better a subject left alone until later. “You sure you're ok?”

 

She nodded, giving him a small smile. “Yeah, I'm fine now.”

 

The bailiff stood. “All rise, court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Adam Garcia presiding.”

 

The judge entered. He was a large man, heavy-set with curly black hair and lively brown eyes behind his  
glasses. His baby face looked far too young to belong to a ten year sitting judge. “Please be seated.”

 

“State of Florida vs. Father Peter Dupree S.J.,” the bailiff announced.

 

“Please bring the defendant in,” Garcia said formally.

 

Calleigh looked from the judge to where Dupree was led in. Her heart skipped a beat and she began to  
sweat, despite the air conditioning. She began to shake. Closing her eyes, she clenched her jaw in an effort  
to get her reactions under control. Too bad she was losing the battle. Sshe wished that she was back in her  
nice, safe hospital room. I don't know if I can do this...dear God, when did I get so timid?

 

“Don't fight it. Let the jury see your reaction.” Eric, seeing her reaction, reached over and held her hand. “Do  
as Sam said; let the jury know everything. That's the only way we're going to get him thrown in without  
parole.”

 

“Right,” Calleigh said, trying to let go of her tenuous control. She looked over at the jury box as the lawyers  
began their opening arguments.

 

There were seven women and five men, two of which were Asian, four were Caucasian, three Hispanic and  
three African American. Their ages ran roughly between the mid-twenties to about 50. All shot furtive  
glances at her during the arguments. She thought she saw sympathy in a few of the eyes, but wasn't sure. If  
they were already showing sympathy, then she had already had an advantage. She leaned back against the wheelchair back and winced, sitting back up.

 

“Your honor,” Sam Bartlett, the States' Prosecuting attorney said, “As everyone here knows, there are unique  
circumstances to this trial and under these unique circumstances, I'd like to call my first witness and the  
victim of the alleged crime, CSI Detective Calleigh Duquesne.”

 

“By all means.” Judge Garcia replied calmly.. “Have her come forward,”

 

The Bailiff stood. “The Court calls the Prosecution's first witness CSI Detective Calleigh Duquesne to the  
stand.”

 

Horatio rose and wheeled Calleigh to the witness stand. He gently lifted her out of the wheelchair and placed  
her in the witness' chair. As he put her down he could see the embarrassment etched clearly on her face.  
Hang in there sweetheart, you can do this …

 

Judge Garcia regarded her with a kindly gaze. He'd had CSI Duquesne in his courtroom before as an expert  
witness and she had always impressed him with her poise and intelligence when discussing the evidence that  
she processed. As he regarded her now he could see that her eyes were still sharp with intellect, yet her  
poise seemed to be missing.

 

“Detective Duquesne, I understand that you are still being hospitalized and are here under strict medical  
supervision. I have been informed that you may need to take frequent rest breaks and I want you to know  
that I will co-operate fully with your request for any and all said breaks.”

 

Calleigh gifted him with one of her warmest smiles. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

 

Samuel Bartlett, attorney for the prosecution stepped forward, stopping in front of the witness box. “For the  
record, Detective Duquesne, please state your full name for the court.”

 

“Calleigh Duquesne.”

 

“Detective Duquesne, please state the events of Friday, December 15th of this year,” Bartlett said.  
As they had already rehearsed during the long hours of preparation, Calleigh began, “I had been in court that  
morning giving testimony. Once that was completed, I stopped for gas and then returned to the Miami-Dade  
Crime Lab.”

 

“In what capacity do you serve in the Crime Lab?” Bartlet asked.

 

“I am the day shift second in command as well as the firearms and tool marks expert.” Calleigh stated in an  
even voice.

 

“Are you also a fully qualified police officer?”

 

“Yes sir, I am.”

 

Bartlett nodded encouragingly to her. “Please continue.”

 

“Arriving back at the Lab, I checked-in with a co-worker, Eric Delko, and requested an update on evidence  
that he was processing. During this time I received a phone call from a previous partner from the New  
Orleans Crime Lab. CSI Camera called to inform me of the release of Father Peter Dupree from the Louisiana  
State Penitentiary. My testimony and the evidence that I and the rest of that team had gathered was  
instrumental in putting Father Dupree behind bars.” Involuntarily, she glanced at Dupree, who was gazing  
quite intently at her. A shudder ran through her.

 

She dragged her attention back to her testimony. “CSI Camera knew of the threat that Father Dupree leveled  
at me at the end of his trial and wanted to give me a warning in case he tried to make good on the threat. I  
spoke with CSI Delko and together we agreed that our Lieutenant, Horatio Caine, needed to be informed.  
After informing Lt. Caine and he, in turn, requesting and receiving the case file from NOPD, chose to assign  
bodyguard shifts to try and keep me safe and draw Father Dupree forward so that he could be returned to  
custody.”

 

A wave of exhaustion washed over her as she paused; her shoulder beginning to throb slightly. “We were  
called out to a shooting and CSI Delko began his shift with me.”

 

“Yet, despite these very qualified officers guarding you, you were still abducted.” Bartlett stated.

 

“Yes,.Our team processed the scene and returned with the evidence to the Lab. I remained there until 6:15  
when Lt. Caine took up his shift. It was decided that I would be safer staying at his home instead of mine.  
We stopped by my home to pick up a few things. That was when Father Dupree surprised us, incapacitating  
Lt. Caine and rendering me unconscious.”

 

“Detective Duquesne, would you care for a break?” Judge Garcia asked. She was looking tired and drawn and  
he was unwilling to jeopardize her recovery for her continued testimony.

 

“It's alright, Your Honor.” Calleigh replied, knowing that she'd need a break soon, but wanting to get through  
the current phase of her testimony for the jury's continuity. “I can keep going,”

 

Bartlett turned a video screen toward her and clicked a remote. The interior of Dupree's Chapel came into  
view. The photo was logged evidence that the team had shot while processing the scene. “Is this where you found yourself once you regained consciousness?”

 

Calleigh swallowed hard, completely unprepared for the horror that ran straight through her at the sight of  
the torture chamber. She shuddered visibly. “Yes, it is.”

 

“For the record let it state that Detective Duquesne has positively identified the interior of Father Dupree's  
bunker. “ Bartlett turned the video screen toward the jury box, making certain that everyone could see the  
photo and the obvious blood pool at the base of the whipping post. “Detective Duquesne, what is pooled at  
the base of the center post in this evidence photo?”

 

Calleigh let her voice shake the way it wanted to. Don't hide your reactions. “That's my blood.”

 

There were gasps of horror from the jury box, several of them looking with great sympathy at Calleigh.  
“Detective Duquesne, can you tell the court how you found yourself once you regained consciousness?”  
Bartlett asked patiently. Things were going well. The jury was loving Calleigh more every second.

 

Calleigh explained in as much detail as she could, making certain to make eye contact with each and every  
juror as much as possible. She answered several more questions in great detail before asking for a break. As  
promised, Judge Garcia granted a fifteen minute recess.

 

Horatio came forward with the wheelchair and picked Calleigh up. She rested her head on his shoulder.

 

“How are you holding up?” he asked, gently settling her into the chair. He began to wheel her out of the  
courtroom.

 

“I'm tired,” Calleigh said, letting her weariness lace her voice.

 

“The Judge set aside a conference room for you to use when-”

 

“Lambchop!”


	15. Chapter 15

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 15

 

“Lambchop!”

 

Calleigh jerked upright, hissing when the motion jarred her shoulder. “Dad!?”

 

“Calleigh, what is all this? What happened to you? Why are you in a wheelchair” Kenwall Duquesne  
came forward, briefcase in hand, deep concern for his daughter etched across his features. He fixed  
Horatio with a furious glare. “And why wasn't I informed?

 

“Dad, please calm down.” Calleigh said tiredly but firmly. “Horatio, I need to speak to my dad; alone.”

 

“Okay sweetheart.” Reluctantly, Horatio relented, his protectiveness over Calleigh going into  
overdrive. He shot Kenwall a telling look; a real ‘you-make-her-upset-and-you’re-dead-meat’ special.

 

“The judge is allowing us to use Conference room 2B.”

 

“I know where that is.” Kenwall shouldered Horatio out of the way and took up pushing the  
wheelchair. He pushed it into the conference room and shut the door. He sat down opposite his  
daughter and spoke softly. “I know why no one called me, Calleigh; but that’s not important right now.  
What happened to you? What put you in a wheelchair, honey?”

 

“I got hurt on duty,” she lied, not wanting to involve her father in this. It could very well send him to  
the nearest bar and she wanted to keep him from that; to protect him from the ghastly details. “I’m a  
cop; it’s an occupational hazard.”

 

“You can't lie to me Calleigh. You've always been a lousy liar. Try again, please?” Kenwall paced a  
finger under her chin and raised her head so she was forced to look him in the eye. When he spoke his  
voice was softer and filled with more tenderness than she had ever heard. “Lambchop, what hurt you?”  
Tears stung at the back of her eyes. She blinked rapidly to rid herself of them. “I don't want to upset  
you…”

 

“This not knowing upsets me more. Don't think I'm heading for the bottle no matter what you tell me.”  
Kenwall replied quietly. “You're still my little girl and someone or something put you in a wheelchair,  
so I want to know the truth.”

 

Calleigh looked at his lined face and the love and concern in his eyes. Maybe she could tell him an  
edited version of the story, but she doubted it. Still, it was worth a try … “I was abducted and beaten. The guy who did it is on trial and I'm here giving my testimony.”

 

“He wouldn't be that Catholic priest on trial, now would it?” His heart dropped into the pit of his  
stomach; Steve had told him some, but held back the details of the case he was defending. Now he  
knew why. “My buddy, Steve, is the public defender assigned to him. He said the guy kidnapped,  
tortured and beat a detective, but refused to go into further detail. No wonder he wouldn't tell me.”  
Calleigh looked down and tried to stifle a sob. A single tear ran down her cheek. She impatiently  
brushed it away.

 

“I didn't know it was you. Steve didn't tell me much, but her told me enough to know that you've been  
through a nightmare.” When she nodded and was unable to hold back her tears any longer, he did the  
only thing he could think of. Kenwall picked her up out of the wheelchair and set her in his lap as he  
used to when she was a little girl. She rested her head on his shoulder and he rocked her, singing softly, his gentle tenor clear above her sobbing.

 

Hush, my child, let peace attend thee, all through the night,  
Guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night,  
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,  
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,  
I, my loving vigil keeping, all through the night.

 

He continued to hum the tune until she calmed and her breathing was soft and gentle. He looked down  
at her, expecting her to be asleep, but her eyes were open and held a far away look in them. “You used to sing that to me when I was little and woke up in the middle of the night with a nightmare,” Calleigh said.

 

“You've been through a waking nightmare,” Kenwall said. “How do you feel now?”

 

“Better.”

 

He kissed the top of her head and gave her a gentle hug. “I love you, Calleigh.”

 

“I love you, too, dad.” She sat up, wiping her eyes. “Because of what Dupree did to me, I can't stand on  
my own or walk yet so why don't you put me back in the wheelchair now? I must be breaking your  
legs; I'm a lot bigger than I was when I was five.” The admission of her weakness cut through her like  
a knife and she almost began crying again. “I don't want to be a burden.”

 

“You're no burden to me; you're my daughter,” he said tenderly as he placed her back in the chair. He  
was shaken by how defeated she seemed. This was not his fiery, headstrong, fierce daughter that pulled him out of bars at 2 a.m. And the tears....he hadn't seen her cry since she was a little girl. His Calleigh doesn't cry. What did this guy do to her? “Do you want me to stay?”  
Panic lanced through her. She hadn't even gotten to the worst part of her captivity yet and had no idea  
what hearing it would do to him. She couldn't imagine what hearing the cross examination would be  
like for him. “Don't you have court today?” she asked, praying that he had some kind of scheduling conflict thatwould keep him way until the worst was over.

 

“I'm done. It was just a bond hearing. I can stay if you need me to,” Kenwall said. “Please let me stay,  
honey; just for once, need your old dad when he can be here for you.”

 

“Dad, I don't want you to have to hear the things Dupree did to me. It's sadistic and violent and  
disturbing; Horatio, Eric and Ryan are all screwed up over this, and even Alexx and Natalia want a  
piece of him – and that’s way out of character for them. I'm not his only victim in this; they are too. I  
don't want to add you to that list, you'll want to kill him.” Calleigh pleaded. “I can't stop you if you  
want to stay, but it’s going to be bad, and you should know that going in.”

 

“Calleigh, if you had to live through it, then I can be strong enough to hear it. I'll get angry, sure, but I  
want to be here for you.” He said, needing desperately to make her understand how important this was  
to him. “For once I can be; I've taken so much from you, please let me give something back.”

 

Calleigh could feel fresh tears forming at her father's heartfelt words. I've wondered for so long if I was just a convenient chauffeur for him when he got too drunk to drive home. I've wondered if he even knew it was me. I guess he did. So this is what it's like being able to lean on a parent; it’s a nice feeling. “Then stay, daddy, because I do need you.”

 

“That’s my girl, now, no more tears, young lady; you have testimony to give, and I can see that you're  
tired already. I know Steve, and if he sees your exhaustion, he'll do anything in his power to exploit  
that. It's nothing personal, mind you; he's just working for his client just like you work for the victim.  
The fact that he and I are friends and that you're my daughter won't stop him.” Kenwall advised.  
“Calleigh, nothing says that I can't be hired independently, pro bono, in an advisory capacity in any  
case that is offered me outside the Public Defender's office. Hire me pro bono and I'll make sure Steve  
doesn't take advantage of you.”

 

“Are you serious?” Calleigh was incredulous. “Isn't there something somewhere about not taking a  
family member's case?”

 

“That's the medical profession. I want to do this, Lambchop.”

 

“I can ask Sam,” Calleigh considered the idea for a moment. “But I don't know if he'll go for it.”

 

 

 

“You say that my client,” Steve Powell approached the witness stand. “A Catholic priest nonetheless,  
abducted, tortured and beat you. Is this correct?”

 

“Yes it is,” Calleigh replied calmly, glancing over to where her father now sat shoulder to shoulder with  
Sam Bartlett.

 

“I see. Did he do anything else to you?” Powell asked pacing, trying to draw her gaze away from the  
jury box when she answered.

 

Wasn't it enough that he almost beat me to death? Oh, yes, I know exactly how bad it is. Why do you think I'm in the damned wheelchair? Do you think it's just for effect, you asshole? Calleigh could feel her temper rise. She took a deep breath and blew it out carefully in an effort to calm down and not shout. “I'm sorry Counselor; I don't know why you're asking that question.” She replied with false sweetness in her voice and steel in her eyes. “Abducting, torturing and beating me wasn't enough of a violent act?”

 

Powell stopped his pacing right in front of her and leaned over her petite form. “Did he rape you?”

 

“No.” The question took Calleigh off guard for a moment, but the moment passed quickly. Look at it as verbal sparring. She thought. Try to enjoy the challenge. “He never touched me in that way.”

 

Powell narrowed his eyes at her. “What way?”

 

Oh please. Calleigh fought with the almost irresistible urge to roll her eyes. “In a sexual way.”

 

“You said that you woke up naked…”

 

“I said that I had been disrobed of my own clothing and redressed in a hair shirt,” Calleigh said, cutting  
him off. She glanced over at her father who was discreetly signaling her to calm down. “I never said  
that I had been…”

 

“I object to this line of questioning, Your Honor.” Bartlett said firmly. “The rape kit showed no findings of sexual assault . The defense is trying to confuse the witness and shock the jury.”

 

“Sustained,” Garcia said. He turned to Powell. “Mr. Powell , you're badgering the witness; change your  
line of questioning.”

 

“Yes, Your Honor. Detective Duquesne, at any time during your alleged captivity did you provoke my  
client into striking you?” Powell asked.

 

“What may provoke one to violence may roll off another's back,” Calleigh replied cagily.

 

“You did not answer my question,” Powell stated. “Did you say or do anything that resulted in my  
client striking you?”

 

“If, by that, you mean that I did everything in my power to resist his brainwashing techniques,”  
Calleigh replied clearly, glancing again at the prosecution's table and getting nods of encouragement  
from both men. “Then yes, I did.”

 

Powell paced. Dammit, she really is Kenwall's kid, isn't she? He always told me she was brilliant. I need to find a chink in her armor; something to slip her up with. “So, by resisting the alleged brainwashing, you contend that it caused him to strike you?”

 

“I contend nothing.” Calleigh said, beginning to feel fatigue settle in again. She fought to keep her  
energy up and her focus sharp. “I resisted and he struck me, then continued to torture me.”

 

“Detective Duquesne, did I hear you correctly?” Powell's eyebrow went up. “You've just admitted to  
provoking my client into violence. Is that right?”

 

“Your client has a case history of abduction and torture. Provocation in this case is irrelevant.” Calleigh  
explained. “There is a pattern of behavior established; I would have been beaten and tortured whether I  
resisted or not.”

 

“Are you a religious woman, Detective?” Powell asked, hoping the abrupt change of direction would  
throw her off.

 

It momentarily made her stumble but she quickly adjusted to the new line of questioning. She knew his  
type and she normally ate lawyers like him for a morning snack. “Spiritual, yes.”

 

“Do you belong to any religious organization here in Miami?” Powell asked.

 

“No, I do not.”

 

“Why not; have you had a crisis in faith?” Powell said, trying to sound sympathetic. Father Dupree  
had referred to her as a heathen and a heretic. Maybe this is the chink..... “It wouldn't be difficult to have that in your line of work.”

 

“No, it's not like that. In a city that has enormously high Catholic and Jewish populations, finding an  
Episcopal church is like looking for a needle in a haystack.” Calleigh replied lightly, earning a small  
amount of laughter from the jury.

 

“Did you have a religious upbringing?”

 

Bartlett stood. “Objection, Your Honor; relevancy?”

 

“Your Honor,” Powell defended. “I'm just trying to establish the detective's religious background and  
any underlying attitude she might have toward my client based on his religious affiliation.”

 

“Overruled, you may proceed. Detective, please answer the question.”

 

“I was raised in the Episcopal Church.” Calleigh stated.

 

“Would you say that you're devout?” Powell asked, sensing her reluctance to speak on her religion.

 

“Devout enough, devotion to one's faith is a private thing.” Calleigh fought a wave of exhaustion. She  
would have to ask for a break very soon. “I keep my faith to myself. I find no need in broadcasting it.”

 

“Do you hate Catholics?”

 

“No! My boss and my best friend are both Catholic.” The question caught Calleigh so off guard that  
she actually laughed. “Why on earth would I hate Catholics? This isn't the Reformation, you know.”

 

“Do you hate Father Dupree?”

 

Calleigh's laughter stilled.

 

“I thought I did, but I don't.” Her voice became soft, yet loud enough for the jury to hear her. She  
looked at them. “What I feel for him is pity and a deep sadness that his faith has become so twisted that  
it forces him to act against the very vows he took when being ordained. He should be offering comfort  
and guidance yet he is forced to act in cruelty and violence; to offer pain when he should be offering  
comfort. Do I hate him? No. Do I hate what he did to me? Yes, I do. Can I differentiate between the  
two? Yes, I can.”

 

Another, far stronger wave of exhaustion washed over her and she wavered slightly in the chair. “Your  
Honor, may we take a recess, please?”


	16. Chapter 16

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 16

 

Several more breaks and a good deal of testimony later Calleigh was back in her hospital room, sound  
asleep. Horatio sat at her side, stroking her soft blonde hair. She had fallen asleep in the Hummer on the  
way back from the court house and hadn't stirred since. And the fact that she hadn't troubled him  
greatly. When he had tried to wake her, she mumbled something incoherent and refused to wake.  
Having little choice and without fuss, he picked her up in his arms and carried her up to her room,  
eschewing the use of a wheelchair. She was so soundly asleep that he feared that she'd fall out of one if  
he tried to use it.

 

“Sleep well, Sweetheart,” he whispered as the door opened and Dr. Webber walked in.

 

“I'm sorry, Lt. Caine, but I need to examine her to make sure today's activity didn't do her any harm,”  
the petite, slender, blonde physician said quietly; Dr. Webber was in her late fifties and exuded a very  
motherly air about her that appealed to most of her patients.

 

“Doctor, she's sleeping.” Horatio whispered. “Can you come back later when she's awake?”

 

Doctor Webber smiled warmly at him, appreciating the tender concern he held for her patient. “I can  
examine her while she sleeps. She pushed herself too hard today, you know. She should have taken  
breaks far earlier than she did and she needed more of them than she took.”

 

“I know, but that's Calleigh for you; she isn't happy if she isn't pushing herself; testing her boundaries.”  
Horatio explained, his own concern going unvoiced.

 

“Considering that we both know she overdid it, I really do need to take a good look at her.” Doctor  
Webber’s voice was kind but firm. “Would you mind stepping into the hall please?”

 

“Of course, Doctor,” Horatio said softly.

 

He stepped into the hall, unconsciously fiddling with his ever present sunglasses. He had a feeling that  
the doctor would pull her authorization for Calleigh to testify for a while and he knew that wasn't going  
to sit well; she wanted to nail Dupree so badly that she could taste it. She was going to blow like Mount Vesuvius.

 

It wasn't long before Doctor Webber stepped out of the room. “You can go back in now, but I need to  
speak with you first. How much influence do you have with Calleigh?”

 

“Would you clarify that statement please?” Horatio replied carefully; sensing what was coming. “I’m  
not certain what you’re referring to Doctor.”

 

“Oh, I think you do. I'm pulling my permission for her court trips for a few days. She's completely  
exhausted and didn't even wake when I rolled her over to check her back. I tried to wake her up and all  
she did was mumble something. I can't, in good conscience, allow her to return to court until she rests  
up for several days.” The doctor explained. “If she doesn't, it could seriously compromise her recovery  
\- possibly do some lasting, if not permanent damage. I didn’t like what I saw in there, and I never want  
to see that again. She’s weakened herself almost to the point she was at back when she was first  
brought in. If she rests now, she should bounce back in just a few days; if she persists in exhausting  
herself, she’ll be looking at a very grim future.”

 

“I had a feeling you were going to say that. Calleigh isn't going to like it at all. Why don't you let me  
tell her?” Horatio offered. “She's used to taking orders from me; maybe it'll be easier to hear coming  
from me.”

 

“Lt. Caine, are you playing the chivalry card because Calleigh has a temper?” Doctor Webber said with  
a grin. “Listen, I've had some pretty violent reactions when I've needed to tell patients bad news before;  
one almost broke my arm once. Anyway, Calleigh doesn't seem violent and I think I can handle her  
myself.”

 

“Tell you what, why don't we leave it to Fate; the first one around after she wakes up gets to tell her  
because I'm not backing down on my offer here.”

 

The doctor laughed. “Alright, I see I've met an immovable object. You’ve got yourself a deal.”  
Laughter rolled out of Calleigh's room as Horatio stood at the door. From the sound of it, Doctor  
Webber hadn't been by to see Calleigh yet and she obviously had a visitor.

 

 

 

Looks like I get to do the honors. Horatio pushed the door open and went inside. He found Natalia  
sitting on Calleigh's bed and the two of them laughing at whatever was playing on Calleigh's laptop. He  
watched them for a moment. They were a study in contrasts; Natalia was tall, dark haired and dark  
eyed. She was more inclined to be serious and didn't really engage her co-workers in banter. Calleigh,  
on the other hand, was petite and pale; blonde haired and green eyed. She was bubbly and feisty,  
always had a ready laugh and a flirty manner. They were as different as night and day, yet they  
complimented each other in the lab. He didn't realize that they had struck up a friendship after the  
whole mole fiasco, though, but then he remembered Calleigh's generous and forgiving nature and  
figured she sought out Natalia first and then the friendship must have grown from there.

 

“We are the Knights that say NI!”

 

Calleigh was shaking in laughter, holding her broken ribs with one hand. “Aw; please pause it, 'Talia!”  
She begged. Mercifully, Natalia paused the film. “I'd forgotten how funny that is!”

 

Horatio cleared his throat. “Am I interrupting anything?”

 

“Horatio! No; of course not. Come on in!” Calleigh cried, her ingrained sense of Southern hospitality  
taking charge. “We were just watching a movie. You're welcome to join us.”

 

“I figured after all the drama in court today; Calleigh would need a good comedy.” Natalia explained.  
“Great thinking there, Einstein; show a comedy to a person with broken ribs.” Calleigh elbowed her.  
“Go ahead, make them laugh; I’m telling Doctor Webber about you!”

 

Horatio chuckled. “What are you watching? It sounded familiar.”

 

“Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” Natalia supplied. “Guaranteed to cure what ails you.”

 

Horatio sat on the bed as well, effectively sandwiching Calleigh between himself and Natalia. “I  
haven't seen that in … way to many years to admit to.”

 

Natalia started the film over from the beginning and they spent the time in easy laughter; Calleigh  
occasionally holding her aching ribs. All too soon the movie ended and Natalia packed up to go.  
“I need to get going, Cal.” Natalia said, sliding the DVD into her purse. “If I don't do some laundry  
tonight, I'll have to go in naked tomorrow.”

 

Calleigh's eyes sparkled with mischief. “I'm sure the guys wouldn't mind.”

 

“I'd smack you if you weren't in a hospital bed!” Natalia retorted. “See you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

 

“You too, but don't doze off while you're doing laundry; naked at work and all that!” Calleigh teased,  
sorry to see her go.

 

Natalia laughed and walked out leaving Horatio and Calleigh alone.

 

Horatio watched Calleigh, enjoying the sparkle in her eyes and the slight smile still on her lips. I'm  
going to be sorry to see that smile go, but she has to be told. “I didn't know you liked Monty Python.” He commented.

 

“Yeah; I blame it on my Uncle Bob and Aunt Amy. They'd send for my brothers and me every summer  
for vacation. My cousin is an only child and would get lonely all by herself; she and I are the same age,  
so it was a natural choice to bring us all over. Anyway, it's a long haul from Louisiana to North  
Carolina, but we did it for years. My Uncle Bob is still state chairman of the North Carolina Republican  
Party, just like his dad was.” Calleigh explained at length, uncharacteristically discussing her family.  
“Every Sunday night was Monty Python night. It was almost a religion. Over the years I've actually  
developed a taste for it. Silly British humor just isn't everyone's idea of funny.”

 

“I thought you're a Democrat?” Horatio said, stalling the inevitable.

 

“I am. Just call me the black sheep of the family.” Calleigh said, taking a good look at Horatio. “Ok,  
you have that look; you need to say something. What is it?”

 

“I spoke with Doctor Webber after we got back from the court house today; she wasn't happy with your  
condition, you clearly overdid it and completely exhausted yourself.” He took a deep breath, bracing  
himself for the explosion to come. “Dr. Webber is pulling her authorization for you appearing in court  
for a few days because you need to rest and regain your strength. She's afraid that you'll do yourself  
permanent damage if you don't. I happen to agree with her.”

 

Calleigh pulled away from him and rolled on her side, giving him her back. “Fine.” She said, her voice laced with misery.

 

“Calleigh …?” Horatio was at a loss; he’d expected more of a reaction. Yell, scream, tell me and  
Webber to go to hell – but don’t shut me out. Please, anything but that.

 

“Could you go now please? I'm suddenly very tired.” She whispered shakily, aware that her temper was  
extremely volatile at that moment. The last thing she wanted to do was say something she’d regret.  
How could he agree with her? He knows how badly I want to nail Dupree. “Leave me alone!”

 

“She's only concerned about your recovery, and frankly, so am I.” Horatio explained feeling guilty for  
making her so miserable. “You pushed yourself too hard, Calleigh …”

 

“Just go, Horatio.” The air between them was heavy with despair and suppressed rage. “Get out.”  
Horatio rose from the bed, defeated. Like so many times in the last week, he leaned over, placing a  
gentle kiss on the top of her head.

 

He felt her stiffen. “I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I'll be back to see you tomorrow.”

 

Don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Calleigh thought bitterly as she felt him leave the room; waiting until his footsteps died away before allowing acidic tears of despair to fall. Of all people I thought you would understand; how could you do this to me?


	17. Chapter 17

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 17

 

Natalia Boa Vista sat waiting patiently on the witness stand. She was determined to give the best  
testimony she could to put Dupree behind bars. An underlying philosophy in her life had always been  
that while one might mess with her, no on dared mess with someone she cared about. Calleigh was her  
co-worker and mentor, but, more than that, she was her friend; one that she never counted on having  
after it came out that she was the mole. After the furor died down and Horatio kept her on, Calleigh had  
deliberately sought her out and patiently listened to what she had to say. Calleigh had been angry and  
had felt betrayed, but, for some reason, was able to move beyond those feelings sooner than anyone  
else. Whatever the reason, Natalia had been grateful. Now she’d return that kindness with the most damning testimony she could give and put Dupree behind bars for the maximum time the State called for. It was the least she could do.

 

“Ms. Boa Vista, what were your findings when you processed the devices?” Bartlett asked.

 

“I swabbed each device for DNA evidence. I found two separate DNA samples on many of the items.  
There was always one set on the handle and on the ones that had two sets, the other set was always on  
the business end;, the part that struck or caused damage to the other person. The on the handles was  
male; a positive match to Father Dupree. The other set on the business end was female; a positive  
match to CSI Duquesne.”

 

“In your expert opinion Ms. Boa Vista,” Barlett paused briefly and glanced at the jury. Several of them  
were pale, others were wearing set expressions; he let the images that Natalia described take root in  
their minds. “Tell the court what your conclusion was.”

 

Natalia took a deep breath and then looked directly into the jury box. Her voice held a hard edge to it,  
remembering processing everything, including Eric's blood stained clothing. “I concluded that Father  
Dupree held the handles and turned the cranks, thereby beating and torturing CSI Duquesne.”

 

Bartlett nodded. “What exactly leads you to this conclusion, Ms. Boa Vista?”

 

“The DNA that came off the handles were from epithelials; skin cells that slough off naturally when  
you touch everyday objects. It's a natural bodily function,” Natalia explained exactly as it had been  
rehearsed. “The DNA that I found on the bed, manacles tied end of the rope, tips of the whips and on  
the hair shirt were mostly blood and bits of flesh that had been forcibly removed from the victim, not a  
passive transfer as with the previously mentioned skin cells.”

 

“You testified earlier that you also processed clothing other than the hair shirt. What did you process?”  
Bartlett asked, pleased with Natalia's testimony. She was effectively placing another nail in Dupree's  
coffin. “Please be specific.”

 

Natalia tried to minimize her revulsion at the memory. Calleigh's blood all over Eric's clothing...and the flecks and spatter on Dupree's. It had made her sick to her stomach. “I processed CSI Delko's shirt and pants as well as all the clothing found belonging to Father Dupree, including the clothing he was wearing when arrested.”

 

Bartlett nodded. “Please tell the court your findings, starting with the defendant's clothing.”

 

Natalia opened her file folder, concentrating on getting every detail right. “I found on the defendant's  
clothing, blood spatter consistent with medium velocity patter and cast-off from the devices. Those are  
two very distinct patterns of spatter; the medium velocity spatter is consistent with close proximity to  
the victim as blood is being forced from them as consistent with a beating. Blood is produced and  
spatters back on the assailant.” She turned to the jury. “I found this pattern on the defendant's clothing.  
Upon further examination I found a second set of spatter differing from the medium velocity spatter. It  
was consistent with a kind of spatter called cast-off – Cast-off is when blood that has been on an  
implement and that implement is swung, causing the blood to fly off in an arching pattern. I found that  
predictable arching pattern on the defendant's clothing. DNA analysis on both blood spatter patterns is  
a positive match to CSI Duquesne.”

 

“Thank you Ms. Boa Vista,” Bartlett said. “Please tell the court what you found on CSI Delko's  
clothing?”

 

“Upon examination of CSI Delko's clothing, I found passive blood transfer,” Natalia took a deep breath  
and focused on her notes, fighting back the sudden unexpected tears that threatened to spill from her  
eyes. “The entire DNA matching that of CSI Duquesne.”

 

“How did it get there?” Bartlett asked his eye on the jury. The fact that Boa Vista was becoming a little  
emotional was actually working in their favor; it showed the regard and concern that the team held for  
each other; that Calleigh hadn't been Dupree's only victim.

 

“I spoke with CSI Delko and he told me that after he processed CSI Duquesne and her immediate  
surroundings,” She replied, wiping at a tear. “He released her from her bonds and the blood got on his  
clothing because he held her to try and comfort her because she was so badly beaten and appeared to be  
in abject agony.”

 

“This has obviously upset you. You're a CSI and are used to all manner of grizzly and bloody crime  
scenes.” Bartlett made certain that the jury could see Boa Vista clearly. “Why is this so particularly  
upsetting?”

 

“I apologize.” Natalia took a deep breath and got hold of herself. She’d be damned if she would give that sonofabitch the satisfaction of seeing her break down. “CSI Duquesne is a colleague and mentor. My training as a CSI has been her sole responsibility over the last several months. In that time I have gained a deeper respect for her. She has also become a good and valued friend. That a colleague, mentor and friend had to endure what CSI Duquesne had is in fact, extremely upsetting.”

 

“Are you certain that your regard for and friendship with CSI Duquesne is not coloring your  
testimony?” Bartlett asked, going in for the slam-dunk.

 

“No sir,” Natalia looked over at the defense table, nailing Dupree with a cold stare. Her voice was hard  
as she replied. “Regardless of our friendship, evidence is evidence and at the end of the day, the science  
will tell the truth.”

 

She refrained from adding ‘rot-in-hell-you-twisted-bastard’.

 

 

 

“Good morning, Calleigh.” Jodi Stourton entered Calleigh's room, wheelchair at the ready. The  
physical therapist had a round, pleasant face, freckled from the Miami sun. Her curly brunette hair was  
pulled back and up into a ponytail. ”Ready for another round?”

 

“No, I'm not going.” Calleigh said, turning her face away from the physical therapist. “What's the  
point? I'm utterly useless anyway.”

 

Jodi took a good look around the room. Calleigh hadn't raised herself into a sitting position and her  
breakfast tray was entirely untouched. More to the point, her face had a listless look that Jodi was all  
too familiar with.

 

“Do you feel sick?” She crossed the room and felt Calleigh's forehead for fever. “Is the pain too much  
today?”

 

“I want to be left alone,” Calleigh said flatly.

 

“Well if you're not sick and not in too much pain then you're going to P.T.” Jodi pulled the covers back.  
“Get up.”

 

“No.” Can’t this woman take a hint?

 

“We can do this one of two ways. Either you get up yourself and I'll help you into the wheelchair or I'll  
pick you up and put you in there.” Jodi said firmly, but not unkindly, mildly confused with Calleigh's  
sudden complete unwillingness. “You're not going to get any better if you don't work at it.”

 

“What's the use?” Calleigh murmured miserably.

 

“Excuse me?” Jodi leaned in, unsure of what she heard. “Come again?”

 

“I said; what's the use?” Calleigh turned her head to face Jodi. She bit out the last three words. The  
anger that had been building since her talk with Horatio suddenly exploded in a hot white flash. Who  
the hell did this woman think she was, The Miracle Worker? “I'm no better today than I was last week. It still hurts like hell, I'm weak as a kitten and I can't see any point of doing any of this to myself  
anymore. It's frustrating and demoralizing. I've been through enough torture already. Why should I  
willingly put myself through more? Leave me alone!”

 

“I'll tell you what the point is, Calleigh,” Jodi said steadily, weathering the storm with a calm born of  
experience; this wasn’t the first time a patient had gone off on her, and it wouldn’t be the last. Anger  
was good; it could be focused and channelled towards recovery. She’d read Calleigh’s file and spoken with the ER staff who’d attended her when she was brought in; most people would have curled up and died after the hell she’d been through. The fact that Calleigh was mad as hell was beyond good – it was fantastic. So long as that rage didn’t turn inward. “There is nothing permanently wrong with your legs. They were almost completely dislocated and they are going to hurt for a while more. You WILL regain full use of them. Your left arm is already doing better and getting stronger. You just need to regain your strength and that's going to take time and patience. You have to be-”

 

“Do not tell me to be patient; I am sick to death of that word! Nothing is getting better at all!” Calleigh  
yelled beginning to feel light headed from the effects of adrenaline. “Why can't everyone just leave me  
alone? I can't do a damn thing and every time I try it just drives home the fact that I can't do it. Please  
just go away!”

 

“Then use that anger and get up out of that bed and work for it.” Jodi replied reasonably.

 

“Apparently you haven't heard that I'm still too weak to do anything at all so just leave me alone!”  
Calleigh shouted her pain and anger so sharp it made the air around her nearly crackle.

 

Despite the outburst, Jodi picked her up. “Prove them wrong.”

 

She lowered Calleigh into the wheelchair, unprepared for the physical fight that Calleigh put up. The  
chair tipped, dumping Calleigh on the floor. Jodi squat and reached out to help her up. Her hands were  
slapped away.

 

“Get out.”

 

Jodi stood, took the call remote off the bed and laid it within Calleigh's reach. Experience had taught  
her that it was useless to argue in situations like this. “Call the nurses' station when you're ready to  
work.”

 

She stood and walked away as Calleigh curled herself into a ball and began to keen.


	18. Chapter 18

Mind of a Fanatic

 

Chapter 18

 

The physical therapist shut the door on the sound of her patient venting her rage. She turned to see Lt.  
Caine approaching.

 

She stepped into his path. “Good morning Lt.”

 

“Good morning, Jodi. Am I late?” He asked.

 

An anguished cry echoed from inside Calleigh's room. She's either in agony or hysterical. Dear God, what's happened to her? He moved to step past Jodi.

 

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Don't; you can't help her right now. If you go in there....it's  
not going to help. You'll only make matters worse and she'll just resent you for it.”

 

Pain and guilt seized Horatio's heart hearing Calleigh's cries. “But she's …”

 

Jodi shook her head. “No. I've seen this plenty of times before. She's confused and scared and  
incredibly angry right now. She's a person that has gone from total independence to complete  
dependence and even though it's only temporary, she's not dealing with it very well. She's not seeing  
the progress she's made. All she can see is that she still needs help to do even the simplest things. She  
knows that her current condition wasn't caused by an illness or a random accident, but by a deliberate  
set of actions that she had no control over.”

 

Jodi broke off as an almost primal scream of rage exploded behind the door. She saw Horatio wince  
visibly at the sound. Sometimes rehab was rougher on the friends and family than it was on the patient. It was a different kind of hell to see someone you cared for in pain and constantly angry; she’d seen relationships break under the strain.

 

“Do you hear that?” She asked. “That's how angry she is right now; how angry she's been since she had  
been abducted. Being in court yesterday brought everything to the surface and now she's dealing with  
it.” Jodi stuffed her hands into the pockets of her lab coat and rocked back on her heels slightly. “I  
heard that Monica pulled her permission for Calleigh to leave the hospital for a few days. She said that  
she overtaxed herself and Monica wanted her to rest up a bit before going back. How did she take the  
news?”

 

“Not well at all.” Horatio shook his head and tried to ignore the sounds from behind the door. He still  
couldn’t believe that Calleigh had turned her back on him, had shut him out. She had stiffened when he tried to say good night. She wouldn't suffer his touch. “I expected her to yell and get angry, but she just shut down. It was almost as if it had crushed her. She rolled on her side and wouldn't talk to me.”

 

“It did crush her, Lt.” Jodi said quietly. “It made her return to a feeling of uselessness that she had been  
fighting and that made her angry. She lashed out at me when I went in to get her.”

 

The screams of rage had now collapsed into heartbroken sobbing.

 

“She'll be fine, Lt. Caine.” Jodi reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Calleigh has to work it out and  
vent everything before she can move on. Don't worry, she's as mentally sound as she's ever been; she  
isn't having a nervous breakdown – although God knows she’s entitled to one. She just has to release all  
the pent up emotions that have arisen since the beginning of her ordeal.”

 

Horatio cleared his throat. I don't want to say this, but her mental health may depend on it. He looked at the closed door with such pain in his eyes that Jodi had to look away briefly. “I can't stand hearing her like this. I should probably call the union shrink.”

 

“I don't think so,” Jodi shook her head. “Not unless Calleigh is normally a little unstable or asks for it.  
Why put it on her record? Why make it any worse than it has to be? What she's doing is normal; she'll  
be fine once this little meltdown blows over.

 

“I'll take your word for it,” Horatio said, glancing at the door. “Are you sure I can't go in? It's hard to  
hear her and not do something to help her.”

 

“Going in there and trying to make it better is only going to re-enforce those helpless feelings. Take a  
walk; go get some breakfast in the cafeteria and come back in a couple of hours.” Jodi said confidently. “She has the remote for the nurses' station. She'll call when she's ready.”

 

Horatio shook his head, fiddling with his sunglasses. It was killing him not to go in and take her in his  
arms and comfort her. “I can't do that. I can't leave her like this. I don't have the heart. What if she …”

 

A loud crash sounded and Jodi smiled. Ah, progress. “That, Lt. is her anger venting again; she just used her legs to kick the wheelchair into the wall. Brilliant! She's not as weakened as she thinks she is and that just proved it. She'll realize it later and it'll give her some hope. If you don't want to leave, then stay, but stay out here where she can't see you. She needs to do this alone. She'll call. Don't go in when she does. Let me; I'm the one that broke the final thread. The nurses will know not to enter when she calls and send for me.”

 

“And if she doesn't?”

 

“She will.” Jodi smiled crookedly. “She’s too stubborn to do otherwise; now if you’ll excuse me Lt. I  
have to go brighten someone else’s day.”

 

 

 

“CSI Delko, why, by the time Rescue arrived, were you found holding CSI Duquesne?” Powell asked.  
This was the third time he had asked the question in an attempt to trip Eric up. “Do you have feelings  
for her?”

 

“After I finished processing CSI Duquesne and all the immediate surrounding area, I released her from  
the manacles she had been locked into. She had been badly beaten and was in a great deal of pain.” Eric  
clenched his jaw. Powell was trying to make his and Calleigh's close friendship into something it was  
not. Sure, he loved Calleigh, just not romantically. He trusted her with everything in him; his life had been in her hands more times than he could count. She was his best friend. “We're cops, she's my partner; I tried to give her what comfort I could before Rescue could arrive and get her medical help. And, even if she was a random vic, I would have done the same thing. No one deserves to have comfort and support denied them when they need it most.”

 

“You didn't answer my question.” Powell raised his eyebrow. “Do you have feelings for CSI  
Duquesne?”

 

Eric fought the urge to throttle the man and took the direction that Bartlett and Duke were covertly, yet  
frantically signalling to him. He took a deep breath to keep his voice civil. Dupree is on trial here, not me and certainly not Calleigh. What's this idiot trying to do? “Calleigh Duquesne and I have been friends for about ten years. We have been partnered countless times and have had our lives solely in the other's hands. I trust her with my very life and I know she trusts me with hers. If you're asking me if I love her, I do. She's my closest and dearest friend and I love her as much as if she were my own sister. We've seen each other through some very rough spots and never once has our relationship turned romantic and I resent that you're trying to make it that way.”

 

Eric glanced over at the prosecution table to be rewarded with the look of two very satisfied attorneys.

 

 

 

Horatio watched through the small window in Calleigh's door, heartsick, as Calleigh rode her emotional  
roller coaster. She would alternate between bouts of primal rage, screaming it to the world, and  
anguished, heartbroken sobbing and keening that pulled at his soul and made him ache, too. Sometimes  
she'd lapse into silence, staring at nothing before starting all over again.

 

The cycle went on for hours before she lapsed into a final silence that evolved into a long nap on the  
floor. Horatio wanted to go in, scoop her up and put her on the bed where she would be more  
comfortable, but didn't, remembering Jodi's words. He didn't want to destroy any progress Calleigh had made; she meant too much to him. 

Finally after an hour or so, Calleigh woke. She lay quietly for a moment before reaching for the call button.

 

Jodi picked her up and put her in the wheelchair. She stroked her patient's hair. In a kind voice she  
asked “Do you feel better now?”

 

Calleigh nodded, her eyes still a little reddened from her crying. “Why did you let me go through all of  
that? Why alone? I was....I was...”

 

“Furious, terrified and a million other things that you don't have names for? I know.” Jodi knelt in  
front of Calleigh and took her hands. “I understand; I really do. You had to work through it alone. I  
did.”

 

Calleigh was confused. “What?”

 

“When I was 17 I was in a car accident and I lost the use of my legs for a while. My spine had been  
fractured and no one was sure I would ever walk again. I had been on the fast track to making the  
Olympic figure skating team. I was an athlete; it was unacceptable for me to never walk again. I had to  
skate. Once the fracture healed I started physical therapy.” Jodi took a deep breath. “The first few days  
were horrible. I couldn't even stand up with help. The one pound weights they attached to my ankles to  
help me rebuild my strength could have been a ton each. I couldn't move them. Competition season  
started and I tried to watch and cheer on my friends, but it was too painful and I got angry. I felt  
completely useless. I refused to go to P.T. anymore. I gave up. Thankfully, my physical therapist knew  
what I needed and she forced it out of me like I did today for you. I let everything go; all the fear, rage  
and helplessness that I was feeling. When I was finished, I did feel better. I went back to therapy. It  
wasn't any easier, but I worked like a demon and within a couple of months I was walking to the rink to  
watch practices. Within the year I was back on the ice. I missed my chance at the Olympics, but I  
entered college knowing what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.” She stood up. “So you see, I do  
understand.”

 

“I guess so,” Calleigh said, wiping a tear from her cheek. Jodi's story touched her deeply. She felt bad  
that all that training on the ice went nowhere, but she was glad that she had Jodi that day.

 

“Do you want to see something?” Jodi asked, taking off her lab coat and rolling up her left sleeve,  
revealing a nice bruise. “You did that when you slapped my hands away.”

 

Calleigh's eyes were huge. “I did?”

 

“Yep. And how did the wheelchair get all the way across the room? When I left you, it was right by  
your feet.”

 

A look of understanding dawned on her features. “I kicked it, I think.”

 

“Damn right you kicked it.” Jodi grinned. “They could hear the noise halfway down the hall.”  
“I kicked it. Jodi, I kicked it!” Calleigh's face lit with a brilliant smile, the first one since before her  
captivity. She laughed. “I kicked it!”

 

“Yes, you did. Now are you ready to get to some real work so you can get your butt out of this chair?”  
Jodi asked with her own laugh. She waved for Horatio to enter.

 

“You bet.”


	19. Chapter 19

Mind of a Fanatic  
Chapter 19

 

 

Jodi stopped the wheelchair at the entrance to the physical therapy room as Horatio held the door open. “Thank you, Lt.”

“And you don't have to stay,” Calleigh said a little coldly. “I know you probably have other things to do.”

Horatio stood in stunned silence. She's still angry at me; she's still shutting me out. Maybe I should have let Dr. Webber tell her. “Alright, Calleigh, if that's what you want.”

“It's what I want.” She looked up at Jodi. “Shall we? I have a lot of work to do.”

Jodi shared a look with Horatio and then pushed Calleigh inside. “That was a little rough, don't you think?”

Calleigh shook her head. “No, I don't; and I don't want to talk about it. I just want to get down to work.”

“It'll be harder without him helping you move,” Jodi observed.

“Jodi, are we working or are we discussing my private life?” Calleigh snapped a little sharper than she intended. She sighed. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean it. Can we please just get to work? I have a lot of ground to cover if I ever want to get back to court.”

 

Calleigh had worked like a demon; had endured the pain without complaint. She grit her teeth, used her good arm to support herself and inched along the mats. When she fell, she accepted Jodi's support and got back on her feet and kept going. Sweat had long ago broken out on her forehead and run down her back, making her gown stick to her body. The pain that her workout had caused her was intense, but not as intense as her anger with Horatio. She'd deal with him later.

“Ok, Calleigh, that's enough for today. Let's not overwork you,” Jodi said, helping Calleigh up onto a padded examining table. She rolled over a small machine and turned it on. Jodi took out a tube of a jelly-like substance and squeezed it out over Calleigh's left knee.

It was cold and made her jump. “Hey, I don't remember that being so cold before.”

“You've never worked up a sweat before,” Jodi replied, taking a little attachment and running it all over her patient's knee. It hummed softly.

Calleigh leaned back and sighed. “Who knew that having sound waves forced through your injuries would feel so good?”

“Modern medicine at it's best, I suppose,” Jodi replied with a smile. “Calleigh, I'm really proud of you. You've never worked as hard as you had today. I know you were in pain but you didn't complain. Is this the real Calleigh Duquesne, then?”

“You mean the one that doesn't whimper and whine? Yeah. Do you know I scare some of the guys on the force?” Calleigh replied with a little laugh.

Jodi looked at her in surprise, moving the device to the other knee. “You're kidding. Why is that?”

“Because I can out shoot most of them and can strip any firearm and put it back together again faster than any of them. I've even done it blindfolded for a challenge,” Calleigh said proudly. “I'm a CSI, which means I'm not a dumb blonde and that is something most men find pretty intimidating.”

“I've read your file about what you went through. Until I met you, I'd have said that anyone would have curled up and died, went insane, or tried to commit suicide after enduring what you did. You just got pissed off. Granted, there was all that other stuff going on, but underneath, you were in a white hot rage.” Jodi smiled at her. “Why the hell do you think I pushed you?”

Calleigh chuckled. “Yeah, I have a temper. Granted, I don't get angry that easily, but how could I not be? That condescending, smug, chauvinistic....sorry.”

“No, it's fine.”

“That he had to physically restrain me until he knew I was too hurt and weak to fight back....” Calleigh felt an unfamiliar sensation begin in the pit of her stomach and realized that she was entirely unprepared to go there. “I'm sorry; I'm sorry, do mind if we don't talk about this right now.”

Jodi's eyes flicked to her patient's face. “It's ok; we don't have to.” In a conversational tone she asked, “So what's up between you and Lt. Caine? I've never seen you be so cold to him. What happened?”

“Let's just say that I've never felt so blindsided by him before. He took a position that didn't expect and it really hurt. I've never had any reason not to trust him before,” Calleigh said softly as she moved slightly to accommodate the ultrasound device being applied to her right hip. “I can't ever think of a time that I couldn't trust him.”

“This trust sounds like something big,” Jodi commented.

“It is. Jodi, we're not just CSI's, but cops as well. We carry guns and badges and crime scenes aren't always clear and safe for us to investigate. Sometimes we have to go out and apprehend a criminal. We have to draw a gun and head into an unsafe territory in order to get justice done. You have to be able to trust your partner. You have to know that he or she has your back. I didn't get that from Horatio last night,” Calleigh said, her tone bitter as black coffee. He knew how much I needed to be in court today; how much I have to be the one that puts Dupree away. Why didn't he back me up? I thought I could count on him and he let me down.”

 

“So you're feeling a little betrayed?” Jodi asked as she changed hips. “I can't see how, but I wasn't there. All I know is that it was killing him hearing you this morning. He was here from the time I left you until you called the nurses' station. He was outside your room the whole time, keeping watch. He was in agony hearing you and unable to go an and comfort you. I wouldn't let him for all the reasons I told you earlier. Think about that before you talk to him, you might want to cut him a little slack.”

Calleigh swallowed hard and was silent for a long time. He was here and heard me go through all of that? Just how much does he care? Have I been too hard on him? I'm still furious, but now I feel a little guilty. Aw great, just what I need; confusion. Why can't anything be simple?

Jodi watched the internal struggle and said nothing. She gently helped Calleigh into the wheelchair. When they got out into the hall there was no sign of Horatio.

 

Horatio paced outside the physical therapy room for a while before wandering back up to Calleigh's room. He entered and sat on the edge of the bed, recalling the brief, but pained exchange they had the night before and then the ordeal that he witnessed her going through that morning. He had never seen her that angry and hurt and scared in all the years he'd known her. In fact, he had seen a very different side of Calleigh that he'd never seen before, and while it appealed to his knight-in-shining-armor complex, deep down he knew that that was not the Calleigh that he....that he.....he wasn't sure.

His Calleigh was strong and sure and confident. She had a flirty manner and a quick wit that left many a suspect with a jaw hanging open after they'd unwittingly confessed, so disarmed by her charm were they. The Calleigh he saw after her time with Dupree was unfamiliar. She was small and timid, unsure of herself. She was totally dependent on everyone around her for everything and that gave her a very defeated air. And then, last night she had shut down on him for backing up her doctor. He tried to tell her why, but she had stopped listening and he found himself on the receiving end of her bitter anger. All he could do was leave. He had to talk to her, make her understand why he did it.

His head snapped up as the door opened and Jodi pushed Calleigh in.

“There you are! I was wondering where you got off to,” Jodi exclaimed ans she helped Calleigh up into her bed. “Now take it easy for the rest of the day. You've earned it, kiddo.” She leaned in, whispering into Calleigh's ear. “Try to go easy on each other.”

“I will, Jodi and thank you,” Calleigh said warmly. She waited for the door to close before speaking again. “I didn't expect you to still be here.”

“How could I leave?” Horatio said evenly, testing the waters.

“I was a little rough. Last night, Horatio; what the hell happened?” Calleigh asked. “You know how much this trial means to me. Why didn't you back me up?”

Horatio sighed. “Because, Calleigh, Dr. Webber explained some things to me and what she said scared me half to death. She said that you'd done yourself physical damage yesterday. You had dangerously weakened yourself and if you kept it up you might never fully recover. I believe the phrase was: “if she persists in exhausting herself, she’ll be looking at a very grim future.” I couldn't have that happen to you. No criminal is worth that. So, I knew I had to back her for your sake and I knew that once you heard the reasons why, you'd understand. But it backfired last night and you didn't understand.”

“Do you have any idea how it felt when you told me that I couldn't go back and defend myself?” Calleigh continued toying with the sheet as she spoke. “I had already been down. You knew that. What you didn't know was how hard I was clinging to going to court to make me feel normal, useful; not like a victim. I felt a little like my old self again and I was high on it. That's why I pushed so hard. It felt so good. You know how much I loathe depending on anyone for anything. Here I was, needing somebody to do everything for me; someone to feed me, brush my hair, carry me to the toilet. Do you even understand how that feels; how it destroyed any feelings of self-esteem I had left? All I heard was no, not the reasons why. I went deaf at that, Horatio. Court testimony was all I had left before I died inside. Before Dupree won.”

“I understand that now. I didn't know how much it meant to you. You're stronger than that, Calleigh. It hasn't destroyed you. You've fought and come out the other side and you're just as strong as you've ever been,' Horatio said. He sat down next to her and took her hands. “But do you understand why I backed Doctor Webber? Do you know that your well-being means more to me than putting Dupree away right now? He'll go to prison with or without you on the stand. I'd rather see you fully recovered and happy and healthy than never quite well again. You can always do remote testimony from the hospital. I'll see if Judge Garcia will allow it.”

Calleigh's head snapped up. “No. I'm going back again, just, I'll work for it. I'll make Dr. Webber see that I can do it. Physical therapy was good today; I've made some progress. It wasn't much, but it was progress. I'll rest like I'm told. There won't be another episode like yesterday.” She looked at Horatio's worried expression and her voice softened. “I'm not giving up, Horatio, I'm digging in.”

“So....we're ok on this, then?”

She smiled at him. “Only if you forgive me for being-”

“Of course.”

 

Kenwall “Duke” Duquesne paced the conference room. “Sam, I think we need to put Calleigh back on the stand. I've been to see her and she's just chomping at the bit to come back. Doc says that if she does well in physical therapy and she gets a good report from the pt. doc, she'll lift the ban.”

Bartlett nodded, writing a note in the margin of the case file. “I heard she had a major emotional breakdown a couple of days ago. She ok to even get back on the stand? I mean, if she's not stable or anything-”

“No, it's not like that at all. She's fine,” Duke said quickly. “Sam, there was a lot of pent up anger because of what Dupree did to her. Plus, she couldn't do the tiniest thing for herself because of what Dupree did to her. She had to depend on hospital staff and friends to do everything for her and that just made her angrier. She's used to depending solely on herself for a very long time. Calleigh is very independent. When her body didn't seem to be healing and gaining strength quickly enough for her to feel it, it scared the hell out of her and threw her into a depression. It all came to a head the other day and she exploded. I understand that it's actually a healthy and normal thing to have happen. You know Calleigh, Sam. She's not that emotional wreck that you've seen in the last week and a half.”

“I know; that's why I'm asking if she's strong enough to be back on the stand. We don't need...or, maybe we do,” Sam said cryptically. “Duke, I think we should use her emotional meltdown. Think we can put her on the stand and have her talk about it? It would nail Dupree's coffin shut completely I think, with her character strength already being abundantly established, if we have her talk about the emotional damage that Dupree caused her just might be the whipped cream on the cake.”

Duke nodded, understanding completely, but a fierce protectiveness over his only daughter burned in his chest. “My Calleigh? I don't know. With that meltdown....I don't want to do anything that's going to make it any worse. I think we need to talk to her about it. I mean her pt. is going great and she's beginning to walk with assistance but with the case getting the press it is, I'm not sure she'll want it out there that she broke down. It might cause issues with Internal Affairs.”

“Fair enough. How close is she to being released?” Sam asked.

“Not for at least another week. If you ask me, she's getting stir crazy,” Duke said with a little grin. “She's starting to drive the hospital staff nuts.”

Sam laughed. “Oh, no she's not. I know her well enough to know that she's a lousy patient unless she's laid out flat.”

“Yeah, she's trying to organize a New Years Eve party tonight in her room for the floor nurses,” Duke said with pride in his voice. He loved that Calleigh was just the life of the party and, by far, the brightest, sparkling thing in any room. “She's asked me to extend the invite to you and yours.”

“I just might. It would be a good chance to get a tiny bit of work done with her before she comes back to court.”


	20. Chapter 20

Mind of a Fanatic  
Chapter 20

 

“Hey, Delko, have you seen Calleigh? I have ballistics evidence for her and I can't find her anywhere.” Jake asked, entering Fingerprints. “Is she in the field?”

Eric looked up from his scope, his anger at Berkley evident. He keeps on her about wanting to start dating again, but he's got no idea that she was nearly killed? What the hell? “Where the hell have you been, Berkley; living under a rock?”

“Look Delko, I've been out of state visiting family for the holidays and I just got back.” Jake defended. Who the hell does this guy think he is; her brother? “Is Calleigh on vacation or something?”

 

“No, she's not on vacation, try Miami General Hospital.”Eric said, some of his anger melting. At least the guy had a decent reason for not knowing. “She was nearly killed in the line of duty, she's in room 2144.”

What Eric had just told him hit Jake like a fist to the stomach. Her condition had to be damn near death for Calleigh to allow herself to remain in the hospital longer than over night.

“When did it happen? How bad is she?”

“About two weeks ago. She's racked up pretty bad. The bastard nearly beat her to death. He had her for three days and tortured her; she was almost torn limb from limb and she lost a lot of blood. Are you planning on seeing her?” Eric asked, noting the look of concern on Jake's face.

“Yeah, yeah I will. I just want to be prepared, that's all.”

Eric shook his head.

“Nothing can prepare you, man. Just try not to let it show; she's got enough on her plate right now, dealing with some heavy physical rehab. Take it easy on her, ok? She’s not the same Calleigh we’re used to seeing.” Eric smiled faintly “She’ll still rip you a new one if you piss her off though; consider yourself warned.”

Jake blinked in surprise. Heavy physical rehab? He'd never known Calleigh to be anything but a little powerhouse; her diminutive size belying her physical strength. He'd lied when he said that he let her take him down in that warehouse. She took him down all on her own.

“Thanks, man.”

 

“Prosecution,” Judge Garcia said calmly, his demeanor masking his extreme distaste for what was about to transpire. “Call your next witness,”

“The State wishes to call Father Peter Dupree, S.J. to the stand.” Sam said. He fought to keep the smile out of his voice.

Powell had protested vehemently, but was overruled by the judge; saying that the character of the victim had been so firmly established that the jury needed to meet and understand the good Father's character and not let the clerical collar do all the talking.

Dupree rose and took the witness stand, taking the oath as he did.

“Father Dupree,” Sam asked evenly, making a show of consulting the yellow pad in front of him. “How long have you been a Catholic priest?”

This is going to be fun. I just wish Calleigh were here enjoying it.

Dupree replied mildly. “I have served Holy Mother Church for thirty-seven years.”

 

“In that time have you joined any internal organizations in the Catholic Church?”

“Yes, of course. I once belonged to Opus Dei.”

Sam fought a grin. Like a lamb to the slaughter....how appropriate. “And, for those of us who have been living under a rock for the past four years and didn’t read The Da Vinci Code, could you please explain what Opus Dei is and what it does?”

 

Dupree smiled. Ah, a chance to educate and perhaps find those I might convert.

“I would be happy to. Opus Dei is an organization that wishes to return the church to it's original purity; before all that ecumenical nonsense of the 50's and 60's.”

“By ‘nonsense’ you mean the reforms of Vatican II Father?” Sam asked, sounding like a student in a first year college Comparative Religion course. Give the man enough rope and watch him tie his own noose.

“Yes, we wish to worship in the language of our Lord, Latin and return the Mass back to its former splendor. So many in this world today have lost their way; we are a way of helping them find their way back to the proper path.”

Sam glanced back at Duke, who signaled to go ahead with the line of questioning they discussed using Calleigh's account of the ordeal.

“Father, you stated that the language that Jesus used was Latin.” Sam adopted a slightly confused expression. “Surely a man of such learning as you knows that the accepted scholarly opinion is that the people in the region of Galilee spoke Aramaic, an ancient form of Hebrew; that Latin was imposed by the Romans upon their subjugated territories – often by force?”

“That is blasphemous to say so!” Dupree said sharply.

“Well, I'm no Biblical scholar; I only had one semester of Western Civ in college, so I may be wrong.” Sam demurred, and then changed the subject. “You said that you once belonged to Opus Dei. This implies to me that you no longer are a part of that organization. Is this true?”

Dupree looked slightly uncomfortable. “That is true.”

Sam took his time as he approached the stand to help draw the juries' eyes to the man sitting there.

“Can you please tell the court why you are no longer a member of Opus Dei?”

Dupree hesitated briefly. “I was removed from the order because our views on conversion did not agree. I was told my methods were too rough for them. When you are saving souls, I believe that there is no concept of too rough. It is rougher to allow them to wander in the eternal darkness if they have not been saved.”

“Can it be fair to say that you had in your possession special instruments or devices that you used to help convert particularly difficult targets?” Sam asked.

“Objection!”

 

Judge Garcia sighed. “On what grounds Counselor?

“Leading the witness,” Powell said desperately; he had argued vehemently against putting Dupree on the stand. He had known that it would go exactly the way it was going and he was almost powerless to stop it.

“Sustained,” Garcia leaned forward. “Mr. Bartlett, please rephrase or change your line of questioning; do not force me to change it for you.”

“Yes, your Honor,” Sam said meekly. “Father Dupree, in an effort to understand what you consider a lost soul, could you please tell the court your definition of one?”

Father Dupree smiled. “A lost soul to me has always been one that does not know his or her way. One that has been pulled by the secular world into living a life that is counter to the one that God wants for them; a life that goes against traditional Biblical values. Sadly, in this Century and in last half of the former one, there are an increasing number of women being added to the list. They choose careers and live singly instead of remaining at home until they are married and staying at home, caring for the house and children.”

“So, you say that these are the ones that need the most saving; these women?” Sam asked carefully.

“Absolutely!”

Sam nodded thoughtfully and paced in a small circle for a moment. “ Father, do you dislike, even hate these women?”

“Oh, no, you mistake me.” Dupree shook his head. “I cannot hate lost lambs like them. I love them. They deserve to be brought home to God. They deserve God's Love and Light.”

Sam asked. “How did you bring CSI Duquesne to God Father?”

“I didn't; I failed in bringing her to God. She was taken away from me too soon.” Dupree said sadly. “I was unable to make even the slightest headway with her. She fought my teaching like one possessed; a most headstrong young woman.”

Sam stood directly in front of Dupree and pinned him with a level stare. Enough screwing around.

“Father Dupree, did you abduct CSI Duquesne?”

“Objection! Your Honor, the Prosecution is trying an end run around the Fifth Amendment.” Powell glared at Sam. “The last time I checked the Constitution still protected an individual’s right against self-incrimination.” .

“Sustained; move on Mr. Bartlett.”

“My apologies, Your Honor; Father, were you giving CSI Duquesne intense private tutoring?” Sam asked.

“Yes, I was. I took her to my Chapel and attempted to teach her gently,” Dupree said openly. “But when she resisted so strongly, I was forced to use stronger means at my disposal.”

“’Stronger means’ as in what was depicted in the evidence photos?” Sam asked, glancing at the jury. Several of them had leaned slightly forward in anticipation of his answer.

“Those teaching tools are mine, yes.” Dupree admitted. “I have employed them before and I did use them to help my Penitent learn her Catechism.”

“By ‘Penitent’, you mean CSI Calleigh Duquesne?” Sam asked in a sharp voice.

“Yes, she was my latest Penitent. She had such promise and could have been such an instrument of God had I had more time to help her. Now, we'll never know.” Dupree shook his head sadly and sighed heavily. “She'll go back to her heathenish life and never know the full burning force of God's Love. Such is a loss to Holy Mother Church.”

“By your own confession, Father, you said that you used the strappado, the rack and an assortment of flails, whips and other flogging devices to try and each CSI Duquesne her Catechism.” Sam could taste victory in the air. He looked at the jury, some of which now wore horrified expressions on their faces, obviously remembering very sharply the evidence photos. ”So much so that when Lt. Caine and CSI Delko arrived at your Chapel she was tied to a post and you were beating her with a whip. Is that so?”

“She was so resisting, so stubborn. I had to wear her down. I was just making headway and then she was taken from me.” Dupree admitted, heaving another heavy sigh. “Mortification of the flesh leads to a prayerful soul. The Way says: Blessed be pain...sanctified be pain....Glorified be pain. Through pain she needed to learn.”

Who is this guy; an evil Yoda? A wave of revulsion swept over Sam and he fought to repress it. He glanced at Duke, whose horrified face was now buried in his hands as the priest's own admission just got him convicted.

“Thank you, Father. I have no further questions.”

 

 

Calleigh closed her eyes against the pain. She was exhausted and every damaged joint throbbed with every beat of her heart. She had had what Jodi called “a bad night”, tossing and turning with not only unrelenting physical discomfort, but also with indistinct nightmares that refused to go away no matter what she did to banish them. Her extreme distaste for relying on chemical means led her to attempt to ride it all out instead of requesting pain medication or something as innocuous as a sleeping pill. Consequently, she began her day at a deficit and that only made matters worse.

She had been honest with Jodi, who had mildly scolded her for not asking for the help she needed, but promised to make the physical therapy session easy and gentle. When it was obvious that Calleigh could take it no longer, Jodi called it a day, taking more than the usual time giving her patient ultrasound treatment to ease her pain. She helped her into the wheelchair and was now wheeling her back up to her room.

“When you get settled, do you want me to get Colleen to get you some relief?” Jodi asked carefully, fully expecting Calleigh to turn her down.

Calleigh nodded, eyes still closed. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep pain free. “It's a bit much to tolerate and I'm tired of trying. I know I'm not due until late this morning, but-”

“Don't worry, you're not addicted. Monica knows about your family history and she has you on non-addictive stuff,” Jodi said as the elevator doors opened and they bumped over the threshold. “You've had a bad night and it's completely normal to have those considering the absolute hell you've been through. Right now a stubbed toe would feel like a broken leg. You just have worn out your tolerance.”

“I know. Why do you think I'm not panicking?” Calleigh asked, sighing heavily.

“Looks like you have a visitor. I don't know this one.” Jodi said. “He's new alright and from his expression, I don't think he expected to see what he's seeing.”

Calleigh opened her tired eyes to see Jake standing outside her doorway with a look of shock on his face. Aw hell, I really don't need him to see me this...this...vulnerable. What am I thinking? We've seen each other more vulnerable than this. I've slept with him. There's nothing more vulnerable than that. He looks appalled. I don't need his pity.

Jake watched as the doctor or nurse or whatever wheeled Calleigh closer. My God, she looks like hell. She's so strong, so sure, what happened to her? What did this guy really do to her? Delko said he nearly beat her to death, but she looks so small, so pained. How do I treat her? What do I say? I can't tease her or zing her with a playful put-down like I always do. What do I say? He cleared his throat. “Hey, Cal. Uhm, Happy New Year.” IDIOT! There's nothing happy about what's happened to her.

Calleigh looked up at him, her smile strained, fake. She needed to look stronger than she felt at the moment. “Hey Jake, same to you. You're back from Michigan, I see. How's your folks?”

“Th-they're fine. They asked about you,” he stuttered, following Calleigh inside the hospital room.

Jodi stopped the wheelchair at Calleigh's bedside and set the brakes. “Ok, on three. Let's just try it and see what happens.”

“Ok,” Calleigh replied, waiting for the count. On three she reached out and grabbed Jodi's proffered hand and rose out of the chair. No sooner was she upright than her legs collapsed beneath her and she slumped against the physical therapist. “I'm sorry; I can't,” she choked, embarrassed.

“It's ok, sweetie; I've got you. Lean on me.”Jodi supported Calleigh's full weight easily. She gently eased her into the bed, smoothing the covers over her. “I'll go get Colleen for you. Remember, this is normal. You'll be just fine tomorrow.”

Calleigh nodded, leaning her head back on the pillow. It felt blissfully soft. “I know and it's ok.”

“So, uhm, Cal...how are you?” IDIOT! You can see how she is. Geez she looks bad; so tired.

She winced and rolled onto her side, drawing her knees up. “I've been better. I suppose you've heard what happened by now.”

“Yeah, Dupree of all criminals. I heard he beat you up pretty bad. How'd he ever get paroled?” Jake asked, coming closer to the bedside. He was more comfortable talking shop with her at the moment.

“As far as Horatio had been able to find out it had something to do with records lost during Katrina. And them not knowing that I was on the list of investigators to be consulted when his parole hearing came up. Seeing that they didn't call me last, oh, June, they also didn't know to let me know anything about him getting out,” Calleigh explained.

“That's why we keep shit like that on computer!” Jake exclaimed, angry at the stupidity and Luddite-like behavior of NOPD.

“Jake, please, I'm angry enough about it already,” Calleigh said, letting out a low groan as she adjusted her position., also feeling more comfortable, more secure talking shop.

Alarmed, Jake came closer, unknowingly placing his hand on her throbbing hip, causing it to flare. “Is there anything-”

Calleigh hissed in pain. “Yes, there is. Please don't touch me,” she cried. He jerked his hand away as if it had been burned. “I'm sorry, but, it's just....you don't know what he did and where it hurts so please don't touch me, ok?”

“Ok Calleigh, relief is here!” Colleen sang as she entered her favorite patient's room. She had a small vial of fluid and a sterile syringe. She quickly filled the syringe and injected it's contents into Calleigh's hip. “There, it shouldn't be long now. This is going to make you very sleepy, but Jodi said that you needed it. I can see she's right.”

“Thanks, Colleen,” Calleigh said gratefully.

“No problem; it's why they pay me the big bucks,” Colleen joked back. “Listen, thanks for arranging that little party last night. It wasn't much, but we all really appreciated it. It's hard having to work on a holiday, which reminds me; I'm leaving in an hour. You'll have Neela today. She's sweet, but sometimes hard to understand. She's an excellent nurse, though. Go easy on her, tiger.”

Calleigh smiled. “Thanks for the heads-up. I know what it's like to work on holidays. Crime doesn't stop because it's Christmas, or New Years or Thanksgiving. That's why I did it.”

“Alright, I'm out of here. Sleep well.” Colleen said, absolutely taking no notice of Jake, who had retreated away from the bed.

Jake waited until she left. “So, throwing parties and then complaining you're too tired? C'mon, Cal, I thought you were supposed to be resting.” he teased.

Calleigh smiled slightly. “Ha-ha, very funny. Look Jake, I'm really not up for conversation right now. Can you come back later?”

Jake reached out and stroked her cheek in the old familiar way he had when they'd been dating. No matter what had happened between them, he'd always care about her. “Sure. Do you want me to stay until you go to sleep?”

She shook her head, a heaviness in her eyelids already making them close. “No; it's ok. I'll be fine,” she said, her words slurring slightly.

“Alright then, sleep well,” Jake said quietly, backing out of the room, very rattled. Delko was right. I couldn't be prepared. Not when the vic was Calleigh. Resisting the urge to head to the correctional facility to interrogate Dupree, he walked calmly to his car and returned to MDPD. If he couldn't do anything about Dupree, he'd concentrate on making the streets of Miami safer on the first day of the new year.


	21. Chapter 21

Mind of a Fanatic  
Chapter 21

 

 

Pain shot up and down both of her legs, but Calleigh grit her teeth and took another step, and then another. What ever made me think I can do this on half the pain meds.....Right, because I can think.

She was running in sweat from the exertion. With a soft grunt of pain she lowered herself into the waiting chair, Horatio's arm steadying her around her waist.

“Great job!” Jodi cried, a grin spreading over her face. “That was twice as far as yesterday!”

“Yeah.” Calleigh grinned back. “Let me try it on my own; no help? I'm gonna have to do it eventually, so why can't eventually be right now?”

“Calleigh, you've already worked hard.” Horatio said. “It's time for a rest.”

“Just a couple of steps; that's all I'm asking.” Calleigh bargained looking from Jodi to Horatio and back again. “If I fall, then my body isn't ready yet and I'll accept it.”

“Ok, ok, go ahead,” Jodi said, laughing. My God, she's determined to get everything back and in spades. She took a couple of steps back and held out her hands. “Come here.”

Slowly, gently, Calleigh stood up. Although her knees threatened to buckle under her, she waved off Horatio's hands. It had to be on her own; everything had to be hers. Fixing her gaze on Jodi's shoulders, not the hands, she took one tentative step forward. She wavered as pain cascaded up and down, but she slid her other foot forward and took another step, then another.

She blocked out everything except making it over to Jodi. She was a mile away. Calleigh took her time, took it easy. She reached out and her fingertips brushed Jodi's wrists: hands clasped hands and suddenly she was enfolded in an embrace, Jodi's musical laughter in her ear.

“Good girl, you did it!” Jodi praised. When Calleigh's knees did buckle, Jodi held her up and helped her over to the ultrasound table. “You deserve a good rest now, sweetie.”

Horatio placed a warm hand on her shoulder as the ultrasound hummed over her knees. He was getting his old Calleigh back and couldn't be happier.

“You'll be back running marathons in no time.” He said, proud and pleased to be allowed to witness her first solo steps.

 

“Good,” She grinned up at him, tired but proud. “Because the MDPD marathon is in May and I'm planning on matching my time from last year and making those guys from nights eat my dust.”

Jodi and Horatio shared a look over the top of her head. Her attitude and energy were a 100% turn-around since her explosion. It didn't mean that there weren’t difficult moments, but that's all that they were; moments. Horatio sat behind her on the exam table and let her lean against him. She was tired; he could feel it in the way she rested against him. She probably shouldn't have tried that last little walk, but he was glad she did. It would give her something to hope for tomorrow.

She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Calleigh hadn't felt as content in a long while. She knew she had tons more work to do before she could even be released, let alone get back to work......work. Her right hand twitched and she realized that she missed her firearm. She missed its sweet weight in her hands, the spirited kick when she fired it, the smell of gunpowder and cleaning oil curling up from the barrel; the way it heated ever so slightly when she shot target practice. She missed her lab; her firearms locker. She missed teasing Ryan and going out on calls with Eric. She missed.....she missed it all.

“When do you think I'll be able to be released?” She asked suddenly.

“Whoa there, Speedy, you just took a couple of steps. You're not quite ready to be out of here just yet.” Jodi said, finishing up the ultrasound treatment. “I want you in the pool tomorrow for a little hydrotherapy. You're healed up enough that we can do that now. You'd be surprised at how much that works.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

“No, I didn't because I can't. That's Monica's call, not mine.” Jodi regarded her carefully. “You're bored, aren't you?”

“Uh...yeah. I just realized how much I'm really itching to get back to the lab. The cases must be sky-high. I'll be on desk duty forever just to get caught up.” Calleigh said with a small laugh.

“I wouldn't worry.” Horatio said. “Camden has been pulling double shifts for you and he's keeping it all to a dull roar, taking the most pressing and time sensitive and leaving the cold ones for you to play with when you come back.”

“I owe him a big one.” Calleigh sat up and let Horatio help her into the wheelchair. The walk to her room was spent in companionable silence. She didn't speak again until they were halfway to her bed.

“Stop here, Horatio. I want to walk to the bed.”

“Dr. Stourton told you to rest for the rest of the day,” Horatio corrected. “Don’t undo all the good work.”

“I won't. Just to the bed and then I'm done for the day,” Calleigh replied, turning her bright green eyes up to his brilliant blue and batting her eyelashes just slightly. “I promise that I'll rest; no more running around.”

Horatio had always been a sucker for her eyes. All she'd ever have to do was look at him a certain way and he'd cave. That's how she got him to sign off on so many of her overtime sheets.

“Alright, alright; just to the bed and nowhere else. Doctor Stourton is not yelling at me.”

He helped her set the brakes and then watched as she slowly rose and stood still for a moment. His heart wrenched at the pain in her eyes, but he knew that pain would pass and she'd be fine...eventually. Slow step by slow step as she made it to the edge of her bed, then using that as a brace, she made her way to the head where she allowed Horatio to pick her up and place her in, tucking the sheets around her.

“Did I just catch you walking on your own, Calleigh?” Dr. Webber asked, leaning in the doorway with an amused look on her face. “Good going! Jodi said you'd made significant improvements.”

Calleigh nodded. She felt like a little kid on Christmas morning surrounded by everything she'd always wanted.

“That was the second time today.”

 

“Jodi said that you've been working like a woman possessed and is more than pleased with your progress. How's the pain?” Webber asked, coming into the room and taking Calleigh's wrist. Her pulse was pounding, but it was only to be expected.

“It hurts a little,” Calleigh lied. If anything, her knees and hips were pounding and her shoulder was a symphony of pain. That's what I get for taking only half the dosage. “Doctor, I want to talk to you about the level of medication I'm taking. It's not that I don't appreciate it, but I can't focus on the dosage you give me and I need to if I'm ever going to get out of here. And I can't focus like I need to when I'm speaking with my attorneys and I won't be able to focus when you finally let me go back to court.”

“You're focusing just fine right now and you wouldn't have been making the progress you have if you couldn't focus.” Monica said. She sat down on the bed, laying her hand on Calleigh's knee and was surprised at the hiss of pain that escaped her patient's lips.

She narrowed her eyes. “You haven't been taking the full dosage, have you? You shouldn't have felt any pain when I touched you.”

Calleigh looked down. “Yeah, I've taken about half otherwise I'd be.... Doctor, you need to understand that I need to be in possession of my faculties. The meds weren't just messing with my ability to concentrate, but to be able to control my emotional responses as well. I am not now, nor ever have been an emotional basket case, but the meds are making me that way. I can't deal with being like that. You're going to yell and I know that I deserve it, but I don't regret it, even though my shoulder is on fire and my legs are pounding.”

“You are a piece of work, Calleigh Duquesne. It's not a bad thing, but you're definitely a complete handful. I don't know how Lt. Caine handles you.” Monica said, shaking her head. “I tell you what, I'll put you on another med that won't cloud your head, but it will dull your pain because I have a question for you.”

“That would be great.” Calleigh grinned. “I hate having my head all foggy, but hurting isn't the greatest thing, either.”

“Good. Now, how would you like to go back to court Tuesday morning?”

“You bet I would!” Calleigh exclaimed, her face in the brightest smile she had cause to give in a long time. Happy New Year!


	22. Chapter 22

Mind of a Fanatic  
Chapter 22

 

 

“Are you sure you're up to this, Lambchop?” Kenwall said, holding his daughter's hands. “We don't have to do this today,” She certainly looked stronger and far healthier than she had the last time she was in court, but he knew that looks could be deceiving and that his Calleigh was a master of that kind of deception.

“I'm fine, dad. I think it's a good idea.” Calleigh said, smiling reassuringly at him. “Use my breakdown.” She had never known her dad to be so protective over her before. Then again, he'd never been so sober for so long before. If this was who the real Kenwall Duquesne was that her mother first fell in love with, then, bring on her real father. Silently she prayed that he stayed on the wagon for the rest of his life because she needed this father in her life; wanted him in her life. “I've had plenty of witnesses testify to my character so that the difference in my behavior can only help.”

Sam, completely unaware of the internal monologues of his companions, patted her on her good shoulder. “Then let's go in there and put the final nail in Dupree's coffin. Remember, Calleigh, hold absolutely nothing back. If you suddenly feel like you're going to lose it and break down on the stand, then for God’s sake do it. I'm not going to go easy on you and you know that the defense isn't, either. Are you sure you can do this?”

“I can do it Sam.” Calleigh nodded a knot of worry in her stomach. Could she just let go like he asked? “Let's just get it over with. I’m getting sick of this place.”

 

“CSI Duquesne,” Sam asked carefully. “Is it true that after you previously appeared in this court room, your doctor rescinded her permission to be out of the hospital, even under medical supervision?”

 

Calleigh nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, she did.”

“Can you tell the court the reason why?”

 

“In my eagerness to testify and tell my story to the esteemed jury, I miscalculated on how hard I could push myself and I overtaxed myself. In my best interest, Dr. Webber pulled her authorization so that I could recover further.” Calleigh explained. A few jurors nodded as if in understanding. “I didn't receive permission to leave the hospital until yesterday.”

Sam paced. This was going well. I hate making her uncomfortable in this line of questioning, but I have to do it. “Had your recovery been going well prior to Monday, December 26th? Was your physical therapy progressing as expected?”

“According to my doctors, they expected nothing less that what was happening.” Calleigh paused, took a deep breath and plunged ahead with the truth. “My own expectations, on the other hand, were much higher; even though I was very aware of the damage that my body sustained. I wasn't happy with how anything was progressing. In fact, it felt like it wasn't.”

“Tell the court about that, please.”

“Well, I couldn't even feed myself.” Calleigh said, “The first time I tried, I could barely lift the fork and CSI Delko, who was visiting at that time, had to feed me,” She was only beginning to understand what Sam hand meant by the phrase ‘not going easy on her’.

“I see. And how did that make you feel?”

“Objection,” Powell stood for dramatic effect. “Relevancy Your Honor?”

“Mr. Bartlett,” Judge Garcia said, “What is the relevance in this line of questioning?”

“Your Honor, CSI Duquesne did not only receive physical trauma but suffered mental and emotional trauma as well at the hands of the defendant,” Sam defended. “It’s direct cause and effect.”

“Proceed. Ms. Duquesne, please answer the question.”

Calleigh nodded. “Yes sir. I-I, uhm, I couldn't do anything for myself. I'm very independent and having to be forced to depend on others - well, at first I was just plain embarrassed. I couldn't feed myself, take myself to the bathroom or even brush my own hair. I was told that I needed to be patient and that before I knew it I'd be able to do things for myself. But day after day I was forced to ask for help. I couldn't see any progress at all and I had begun to fear that maybe I'd never regain full use of my arms or legs, even though the doctors assured me that my then current condition was only temporary. Intellectually I knew what they were telling me had to be true, but emotionally, viscerally, it never felt that way. I was devastated. I felt useless and helpless and I was scared and that all made me angry.” She wiped at her tearing eyes. She accepted the proffered tissue. “The only thing that made me feel anything remotely normal was being able to come in here and give my testimony. I'm a CSI; it's part of what we do. It felt so good that I became drunk, high, on the feeling and I pushed myself too hard and nearly had a relapse. When Dr. Webber pulled her authorization, I snapped. It was as if everything I had feared was becoming a reality and I just couldn't take it.”

Sam gazed on her in sympathy. She really was having a hard time. Swallowing that sympathy for the time being, he continued. “Would it be fair to say that at that point you had lost hope of achieving a full recovery and returning to the way you were before being taken by Father Dupree?”

“Yes, I did. It all seemed so pointless. The physical therapy didn't seem to be doing me any good and was only succeeding in creating more pain. Dr. Stourton would set goals for me and when it was clear that I hadn't achieved them, it just made me feel more helpless and useless. I gave up I just couldn't see the point anymore,” Calleigh said, wiping at fresh moisture. She couldn't look into the gallery where most of the team sat for moral support. She couldn't meet a single gaze, not that for a second she would see pity there, but sympathy and understanding instead. She knew if she did, she’d break down completely and be unable to finish the testimony.

“Ms. Duquesne, not to cause you any more discomfort, can you tell the court what happened next?” Sam asked kindness in his voice.

“Dr. Stourton refused to let me give up and she pushed me anyway. We argued and there was a physical fight, it was me more than her; she just tried to keep me from hurting myself, and then I.....I....uhm,” Calleigh broke off unable to say any more. She clenched her jaw, determined not to fall apart on the witness stand. She shook her head, signaling her inability to continue verbally.

Sam's heart ached watching her fight for control. He chose to make it easy on her, going back against his word earlier. He hadn't realized that it would be this hard for her. “You got angry and all the pent up fear and worry exploded to the surface. Is that right?”

“Objection!” Powell nearly shouted. “Speaking for the witness!” It had already been going badly for his client and he had caught the jurors shooting the priest loathing glares from time to time, but with Duke's daughter, known for her self control and professionalism, breaking down on the stand, he knew he'd be lucky to get Dupree off with an LWOP.

“Overruled. The witness can hardly speak for herself right now Mr. Powell,” Judge Garcia said, masking his shock at seeing a CSI whom he'd come to respect and even like be unable to continue with a testimony. His voice, while still professional, was gentle when he spoke. “Ms. Duquesne, do you need a few minutes?”

She shook her head. “No, I can go on. I apologize; I didn't expect this to happen.” She took a deep breath and continued. “I exploded, had a catharsis.”

Sam shot her a slight smile of encouragement. “Just how severe was this catharsis?”

“It was extremely intense and prolonged. Lt. Caine was witness to it, although I didn't know it at the time. He can corroborate on what happened.”

“Has your outlook on your recovery changed since this catharsis?” Sam asked.

“Oddly enough, it has. I needed to release or expend all the negative feelings that were getting in the way of my recovery. I needed to emotionally get on board with what the doctors had been telling me all along,” Calleigh explained, finally beginning to calm down. She was mildly embarrassed that she had broken down, but it was exactly that which they gambled on happening in the first place.

“So your physical recovery is progressing now?” Sam asked.

“It had been all along, but I was unable to see it. I was too eager to have everything back right away and was unable to see that I actually was making progress. It's no less physically painful, but I can see the progress and I don't mind the pain so much.” A wave of intense exhaustion swept over her, taking her by surprise. She hadn't realized that her emotional response would tax her so heavily. “Your Honor, could we take a recess please?”

Judge Garcia looked down into her tired face. “Of course. Half hour recess.”

Horatio pushed the wheelchair up to the witness stand and helped her get in. “You ok?”

“I'm fine. I just didn't expect to-”

“Say no more. You’re giving Powell an aneurysm in case you hadn’t noticed.” Horatio pushed the wheelchair into the hallway to where the team waited. They swarmed as soon as they saw her.

“That was some amazing acting in there, Cal,” Ryan said admiration for his mentor in his voice. “It really looked like you were-OW!” He shot Eric a dirty look and massaged the arm that Eric had just punched. “What the hell Delko?”

“Shut up, Wolfe,” Eric growled. He had known Calleigh longer and had seen her lose it a time or two. The most recent was when Hagan had committed suicide in her lab. She had held it together while in the lab, but he remembered walking out to his car at the end of the day and seeing her still there, inside her car. She was shaking and when he got closer he realized that she was crying.... He knew it took a lot to get her to crack, so he wasn't exactly surprised she blew. It did make him worry that she had allowed herself that display in the court room, though.

“Who said I was acting, Ryan?” She turned tired eyes up to him. “I really need that rest.”

“Cal, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking and-” Ryan’s words trailed off. And I am such an idiot, he thought miserably, way to stick your foot in it Wolfe!

“It's ok Ryan,” She closed her eyes, her head beginning to drop on her neck from exhaustion. “Don't worry about it.”

“I've got her, H.” Eric said, shooting his former brother-in-law a significant look, telling him that he was worried and wanted to talk to her himself. “I'll take her; go get a cup of coffee.” He took control of Calleigh's wheelchair, wheeled her into the conference room and helped her onto the couch.

“Ok, what was that about?” Calleigh questioned. “What's wrong?”

“You're not a crier, at least not in public, and aren't prone to public breakdowns – public chew outs yes – but not breakdowns.” Eric sat next to her. “How bad was it, Cal? You know you can tell me.”

She looked up into his eyes and read the concern in them. You always have worn your heart right on your face, haven't you, Eric? It makes you a lousy liar. “It was bad, Eric, really bad. But I'm fine now. It needed to happen and I didn't realize how difficult it would be to talk about it in court and I let my emotions get the best of me. I'm better, but not 100% yet. You don't need to worry. I'll pass the psych eval. You'll be rolling your eyes at me in no time.”

“You're sure?”

She smiled at him. “Yes, I'm sure.”

He pulled her into a gentle hug, which she returned. “If you ever need and ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find me, Querida.”

“I do. Now will you get out of here before I start crying again?” Calleigh said, struggling to keep her emotions in check. “If you don't I swear I'll sic Dr. Webber on you,”

“No thanks; she's fierce, I’d rather face Stetler.” Eric chuckled and released her, helping her to lie down. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” She curled herself into a comfortable position and yawned. “Just a nap, thanks.”

“Then I'll go and let you get on with that. Rest well.” Heart reassured and feeling much better himself, Eric closed the door and went to get himself a cup of coffee.


	23. Chapter 23

Mind of a Fanatic  
Chapter 23

 

 

“Horatio, will you stop fussing at me please?” Calleigh cried in frustration, swinging her legs off the bed and standing up. “I can do it myself. Don't baby me; I don't need it anymore.”

He held out his hands to her anyway. “I just don't want you to fall. Humor me – please?”

With a sigh, she gently swatted his hands away and walked to the wheelchair on her own. Walking was mildly uncomfortable, but not unbearable and the extra few steps would do her good. Carefully using both her arms, she lowered herself in. “If I fell, I would have picked myself up again. Look, Dr. Webber wouldn't have released me if I couldn't take care of myself. She even cleared me to be back at work as long as I don't go chasing anyone down. Why would she do that if I wasn't ready?”

Horatio smiled down at her. She was right and he knew it, but he wanted to baby her, take care of her just a little longer; just until the trial was over. He had to admit to himself, though that it was nice to have his Calleigh back; bubbly, feisty and full of life. “Alright, Sweetheart; are you ready?”

Calleigh's smile was nearly blinding in its joy. “Did Elvis wear a white jump suit? Closing arguments are in an hour and I don't want to miss a second; I want to be there when Sam slams the lid on Dupree's coffin. There's no way he's getting off on this. Y'all have built an amazing case against him. He'll be lucky to get LWOP.”

“Not with your testimony in place. You told.....I have to admit, I still am having a hard time with knowing what he put you through,” Horatio said quietly. Seeing her as she had been when they burst into the scene was still very fresh in his mind - painfully so. “That you haven't been destroyed-

“Is testament to pure stubbornness on my part. Hey, I'm a Duquesne. We're a lot tougher than we look.” Calleigh said brightly, full of her normal spunk. “Now are we going to sit here all day or are we going to go see justice done? Push or I'm walking out of here!”

Horatio let out a low chuckle. “Glad to have you back.”

 

Closing arguments done and the jury sent of to deliberations found Sam, Duke and Calleigh sitting in the hallway. The team had been called in to roll out on a triple homicide and while Horatio wanted to turn it over to the swing shift, Calleigh insisted that he take the team and fight for someone else. She'd call him after the verdict was read. Reluctantly, Horatio agreed and took the team with him.

Sam glanced at his client and noted the amount of tension that she was carrying. It seemed to him that she held the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Hey, why don't we go across the street for an early lunch? Juries can take hours deliberating.”

“I can't, Sam.” Calleigh shook her head. She was afraid that if she tried to eat anything she'd throw it back up. “I'm just too nervous. What if …”

“Nuh-uh, Lambchop,” Duke shook his head decisively “Don't you go thinking like that. No ‘what ifs’. The case is air-tight and the jury would be foolish to let him go after what he did to you and all those other women. He's not walking.” Duke put his arm around his daughter and pulled her into him. She rested her head on his shoulder as he placed a light kiss on her head. “He's not touching anyone ever again.”

“Excuse me, Duke, but could I speak with your daughter?” Steve Powell asked carefully. He was clearly unsure of his reception. “It won't take long, I promise.”

“Look Steve, she not dropping the charges or interested in a plea bargain …” Duke said protectively.

“It's ok, dad. The trial is over except for the verdict,” Calleigh said, loving this new relationship with her father. “What did you want to see me about, Mr. Powell?”

He sat next to her as the other two men moved a short distance away to give them some privacy. “Ms. Duquesne, I just want to make it abundantly clear that anything I threw at you wasn't personal. I wasn't trying to upset you or hurt you in any way. My job …”

“Is to defend your client I know; I'm a lawyer's daughter. I do understand, Mr. Powell. If it wasn't for the fact that my father and I have the same last name, he might have been handed the case.” Calleigh said. “Listen, I understand that you were only doing your job and anything that you could to to that end was fair play. My job was to make sure that you couldn't do that. It was mental chess and we'll see who wins when the jury gets back.”

“Good,” Powell smiled at her. “Since my job with this case is nearly over, I just want to let you know that I think you are amazingly courageous to have made it through what you did and come out on the other end just fine. I know your dad was beside himself with worry over you once he knew what had happened.”

Calleigh set him with a very measured look. “Are you saying that you think your client is guilty Counselor?”

“Former client once the verdict is in,” he replied. “It doesn't matter what I believe. The evidence is there as well as his confession. You've been through something unimaginably horrible and I'm sorry that it happened to you.” Powell said kindly. “I'm not apologizing for him I just wanted you to know that I'm not …”

“A horrible rat bastard? Please, I know that. You wouldn't be friends with my dad if you were. He wouldn't give you the time of day.” Calleigh said as the Bailiff stuck his head out the door.

They all looked up as he spoke. “The jury has a verdict.”

 

Calleigh's stomach had tied itself into an entire macramé piece by the time that Judge Garcia asked the jury for its verdict. She felt sick and light-headed and reached for her father's hand. He took it and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Madam Foreman, would you please read your verdict?” Judge Garcia asked pleasantly.

“On two counts of assault on Miami-Dade police officers we find the defendant, Father Peter Dupree guilty on both counts,” The African-American woman said. She continued, leveling her warm brown eyes on Calleigh anxious green ones. “On the count of the abduction and torture of a Miami-Dade police officer, we find the defendant guilty. We, the jury, find the defendant, Father Peter Dupree guilty all counts.”

“Thank you Madam Foreman, the Court thanks the jury for its service.” Judge Garcia said. “Sentencing is tomorrow morning at 9a.m. Until that time Father Dupree will remain in the custody of the Miami-Dade Correctional Facility. Court is adjourned.”

Corrections officers took Dupree by the arms and began to lead him away. As they passed Calleigh, she deliberately stood and looked him in the eye. “You're never going to do to another soul what you did to me; I promise you that. Every time you're up for parole, I'll be there to make sure you stay put in a 6 x 6 box.” Her voice was steely “No hurricane will make me forget and the records won't be lost this time. Get him out of my sight.” Calleigh said as her legs began to buckle from the pent up emotion coupled with relief. Duke helped her to sit.

“That was no Lambchop. I think I might have to change your nickname,” He said, noting how hard she was shaking. He pulled her into an embrace to help still her trembling. “I'm proud of you, you know that? It's over now, baby. You've lived through it and come out the other side stronger for it. Why don't we go across the street for a celebratory lunch? It's on me.”

Calleigh pulled away from him, feeling the weight of the world fall from her shoulders. “It's a deal; I'm starving!”


	24. Chapter 24

Mind of a Fanatic  
Chapter 24  
"Yeah, he got LWOP, alright," Calleigh said, leaning back on the sofa in the crime lab's break room. "It was a pleasure to know that he can never get out. Garcia really threw the book at him. Remind me to send the good judge a gift basket next Christmas."  
Eric opened the refrigerator door, retrieving two soft drinks. He opened them both, giving one to Calleigh. "So, when do you start back?"  
"Tomorrow morning," Calleigh said brightly as she took a sip. "I've already let Camden know - he's tickled to be going back to nights. He says 'too many weird things happen' on days – and that's a direct quote by the way."  
"Camden needs to lighten up." Horatio leaned against the door frame. "Remember, until Dr. Webber clears you completely, you're on desk duty. Have you tried firing your gun yet?"  
"No," Calleigh admitted, sipping her beverage. "Camden was using the range and I really don't know how stable my stance is yet; I may not be able to hold the gun for long." Having to admit such a weakness made her cringe, but Horatio and Eric deserved to know the truth.  
"We'll give it a try tomorrow." Horatio said. "It'll help me to know how soon I can expect to be putting you out in the field again," His next words were delivered with a chuckle "I may have to put in for stress leave."  
"Hey, we just heard; Dupree got LWOP!" Ryan said as he and Natalia entered. "I'm glad to hear it. You really blew him out of the water."  
"Well, it wasn't just me, guys. It was all of you, too. All that work y'all did to find me and every scrap of evidence you collected. I mean, I know you guys are good, but damn – you really pulled out all the stops didn't you?" Calleigh said, the deep affection she held for each of them very clear in her voice. "You never once let me down and I'm thankful for that and all y'all."  
"Uh, Calleigh," Natalia said with a glint of mischief in her eyes, "your Scarlett O' Hara is showing."  
"What?"  
"Never mind," Natalia said with a grin, giving the smaller woman a gentle hug. "I'm just glad to have you back. We can really use you; not to mention the place isn't the same without you."  
"Listen, it's been a long and very tense day for you already. Why don't I give you a lift home and we'll talk about the caseload you'll be carrying until you're cleared?" Horatio offered.  
Calleigh shook her head. "I can't ask you to drive me home, Horatio. I can take a cab."  
He fixed her with a look. "I'm driving you home."  
"Good," Eric said, "Then I get to pick you up on my way in."  
"Eric, you live in Little Havana and I live in Bal Harbor."Calleigh raised her eyebrows. "I am definitely not on your way in. Don't go out of your way just for me." She frowned darkly at Horatio's – smug, that was the only word for it – expression. "And as for you mister …"  
"Cal, what if I told you that I'm dying for a bowlful of your Southern biscuits and gravy? The ride isn't free. I'm expecting breakfast out of it," Eric said playfully, cutting off the rest of her response and grinning at her. "Now, I know you keep all the stuff right on hand all the time. In fact, you already owe me one since I went shopping for you so you wouldn't have stale, moldy bread and peanut butter to eat tonight."  
"Ok, I give!" Calleigh laughed the sound ringing joyfully around the small room. God, it was good to be back! "Pick me up an hour before shift and you'll get your payment. Frozen biscuits alright with you, Delko?"  
"Perfectly," Eric replied with his own laugh. "I can wait until you're completely recovered for the home made."  
"Come on, ma'am." Horatio stepped forward, offering Calleigh his hand. "That's enough for today. I need you refreshed and ready to start processing first thing in the morning."  
She took it, standing up. "Why, thank you kind sir."  
"If Eric gets biscuits and gravy for driving you to work," He asked smoothly. "What do I get for driving you home?"  
"We'll just have to see when we get there …" Calleigh gave him a playful smile and a raised eyebrow. "Won't we?"  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Ryan sat sipping his morning coffee and reading the sports section of the paper. He was so engrossed in the football scores that he didn't hear the door open and two people enter. Suddenly a brown paper lunch bag appeared in front of him. He looked up to see Calleigh and Eric standing over him with expectant looks on their faces.  
"Hey Delko, good morning Calleigh, welcome back," he said, eying the bag. "What's this?"  
"Shall we say that the proof is in the pudding?" Calleigh said cryptically. "Open it and find out."  
He unfolded the bag and reached inside, pulling out a still warm biscuit and a plastic container of a light brown substance with darker brown bits suspended in it. It, too, was still warm. "Uhm, Calleigh, this isn't pudding."  
"Of course it's not. Eric told me what you said yesterday about not believing that I can cook. There's your proof; biscuits and sausage gravy," Calleigh said with a smug grin. "Eric ate four. You're lucky that I always make more than enough."  
"Thanks! I didn't mean anything by it. I mean, well, I didn't-"  
Stifling laughter at his flustered expression, Calleigh said, "Ryan, just because I play with guns for a living doesn't mean I can't be domestic. Besides, you've been in Florida long enough. Have you ever met a Southern born and bred woman who can't cook?"  
Ryan grinned back. "I guess not."  
"Then you'd better eat up before I make that one my fifth helping," Eric directed with a hungry look at the food. "You snooze, you lose …"  
"You've had enough, now out!" Calleigh gave him a gentle shove. "Don't you have fingerprints or something to do?"  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Calleigh loaded a clip into her service pistol and slid the safety off. She held it securely in both hands before bringing it up to point at the target. Her right shoulder spasmed slightly and she lowered the firearm, rolling her shoulder a little.  
"Are you ok?" Horatio asked from behind her, his chest touching her back.  
"Just a twinge; I forgot how heavy this thing is," she replied, raising the firearm again. She pointed it at the target, took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. The recoil sent a shockwave up her right arm and into her still healing shoulder. Son of a bitch! She let out a muffled cry and put the gun down, cradling her right arm with her other hand and leaning against Horatio for support. "And that it has a helluva kickback."  
"That's enough for today then," he said soothingly as he reached up and began to gently massage her shoulder.  
"Who'd have thought that a firearms expert couldn't fire her own gun?"  
"You're still healing sweetheart," Horatio's voice was as gentle as his touch. "Just give it a little time."  
"I know." Calleigh said resignedly. "I guess whichever CSI brings me firearms evidence is just going to have to do their own test firing for a while."  
"And that upsets you," Horatio stated quietly.  
"A little; I'm more frustrated, though." She replied, there was something simultaneously comforting and a little frightening in Horatio's perceptiveness. "At least I can do the rest of my job," Calleigh said as Horatio's pager went off.  
He looked down at it. "It appears that we have a man, dead in his own home, apparently crushed by a slab of marble."  
"Damn, I wish I could go with you …" she said softly, turning to face him.  
"So do I; but you have more than enough here to keep you occupied." Horatio said. He put a finger beneath her chin and raised her head so that he could look into her eyes. "Are you going to be alright?"  
"Like you said," she replied with a smile. "I've got plenty to keep me busy."  
"Good." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Maybe we'll bring you back a little something interesting from the crime scene."  
Calleigh laughed, stepping away from him. "Go on; get out and let me get some work done."  
Horatio graced her with a rare smile. "Good to have you back, Sweetheart."  



End file.
